Where Angels Fear to Tread
by Stick Marionette
Summary: Sequel to And All Was Right With the World. The most famous prisoner of Azkaban suddenly disappears. Memories are dug up, secrets are revealed, and skeletons burst out of their closets as reluctant Auror Draco Malfoy is caught in a web of deception.
1. Prologue

Where Angels Fear To Tread 

Prologue

Extract from the Journal Of Doctor S. Summers

_Tuesday, January the 15th, 2008_

_Patient No. 2003 Mr. H. J. Potter (see note 1)_

_Curiously, this is the first report on this patient, who has been in Azkaban for three years and has undergone numerous psychiatric examinations in his imprisonment by various skilled psychologists.  I discovered the reason for this while interviewing Mr. Potter, who seems to be healthy and cheerful, even if his sense of humor is decidedly macabre.  _

_I conducted many interviews with Mr. Potter, hoping to get to the crux of his problem.  He is a likeable young man, bright and surprisingly well read. (He confesses that a few privileges are given to him as a prisoner, enabling friends to bring him books, newspapers and the like.) His knowledge of the Azkaban itself and its prisoners are considerable.  He is in fact still a confident and charismatic young man, which is rare in one who has been at the prison for so long.  _

_Most of the prisoners here are labeled insane after one or two years of imprisonment.  It is rare for a prisoner to keep his/her mind for so long.  There are of course precedents, like the Black case (see note 2), in which the prisoner reportedly kept his sanity for more than ten years.  Unfortunately, there are no records to prove this, as the Ministry set up the Magi-Psychiatry program after the Second War, and Sirius Black is still one of the most wanted men of the Wizarding World. _

_Finding Mr. Potter to be a perfectly normal young man, I reported this to my superior, who sent the report back.  I was extremely confused.  Mr. Potter explained that the Ministry would not settle for anything less than a report saying 'criminally insane' and agreed to help me find evidence of his insanity.  He was extremely polite and helpful and suggested I should look for the whereabouts of his esteemed former psychologists for some answers.  I followed this suggestion and discovered that five of Mr. Potter's former doctors have quit their profession entirely while seven were currently undergoing psychiatric examination themselves.  _

_Of course, I set out to understand the reasons for these skilled men and women to take these extreme paths of action.  However, there are no records of conversations held with the patient, no reports, and certainly no conclusions drawn.  Each doctor quit the job after less than a week, while Mr. Potter seems to be in the best of mental health himself.  I asked him if there was a reason behind this.  He told me that he thought I was a likeable enough person and didn't want to inflict anything terrible on me._

_I told him he could 'inflict' anything he wanted to, as long as it was helpful to him, as that is what my profession entails.  I hope that was wise._

_End Extract_

_Note 1: Doctor Summers committed suicide a week after this last journal entry.  There are no further reports from any doctors regarding Mr. Potter.  _

_Note 2:Mr. Black's whereabouts are still unknown.   _

_TBC_


	2. The World According To Harry Potter

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Chapter One: The World According to Harry Potter

A/N: Follow up to And All Was Right With the World.  Making fun of Mary Sues along the way.  And there's Snape!  What more could you ask for?

------------------------------- 

Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake. 

- Napoleon Bonaparte 

-----------------------------------------

She smiles carefully at the mirror, trying on the professional look for good measure.  After all, she is going to meet one of the Wizarding World's most famous prisoners.  

Harold James Potter.  A legend before he could walk.  Banished the Dark multiple times even before he came of age.  Defeater of the Dark Lord.  Criminally Insane.

Of course, no one could actually prove it, since all the magi-psychologists assigned to him usually went insane in a week or disappeared before they could write their first report.  But she wasn't scared.  Oh no.  She'd even requested to see him alone, unsupervised.  Wasn't she brave?  Father would have been so proud.

She, Natalie Summers, shall unravel the mystery that is Harry Potter and gather acclaim and riches beyond the dreams of witches world wide.

----------------------

_Saturday, September the 13th, 2008_

_Azkaban_

The conditions in the rooms provided were dreadful.  The chairs were wooden and dug into your back, and the room smelled horrible.  Natalie sniffed delicately.  

But then, the door opened, and she forgot all about the horrible odor in the room and everything else, if just for a second.

She was warned about his mind games and endless horror stories, but not that he was such a charismatic individual.  The last photos of him on file were from his teenage years, when he was still a small and awkward boy of fourteen.  Now, fourteen years and three winters in Azkaban later, he was almost unrecognizable. 

The room seemed to be soaking in his physical presence, and she found herself looking up into a pair of brilliant green eyes.  Bright and cold, like distant stars, and she could hardly pull herself out of them.  Before she knew it, she was submerged in a strange state of consciousness, blissfully happy and wonderfully light.

But the smell in the place was still terrible. "Urgh, it smells bad in here.  Do you know what this room was used for?" She says, her nose wrinkling in a way she thought was endearing and others (privately) thought looked stupid.   

"It's a interrogation room.  My interrogation room, in fact."

His soft voice seemed to wrap a cocoon of warmth around her.  She knew nothing else, at that moment, but those eyes and that voice and that existence.

"Please sit down, Miss McDonald.  As I understand it, you're a new graduate.  I read the article in the Prophet regarding your proposal for all Azkaban prisoners to undergo psychiatric examination.  I found it very interesting, reading it from the prospective of one who knows most of these ah - inmates personally."  He smiled at her, as if sharing a great universal joke.  She smiled back.  Of course, everything he said was the gospel truth and could not be questioned.

But wasn't there something she had to do? "I'm very flattered, Mister Potter, and I – "

"No, please, call me Harry.  Everyone does." Ah, yes.  What an honor! To be able call him by his first name.  What a generous offer.  She would keep quiet, as was required of her, and listen to him speak.  After all, is there any greater pleasure?  

"Now, listen carefully.  First, I would like for you to tell me everything you know."  His eyes seemed to gleam as he settled back into his chair.

She started talking, and didn't stop for a long, long time.

----------------------

_Two Weeks Later_

"Potter."

"Nice to see you too, Professor.  Why are you still teaching at Hogwarts, anyway?"

"Some of us still need to earn our every meal."

"Better that than what I have here.  How is Hogwarts? Are the Slytherins still sore losers?"

"…….."

"All right, all right.  No insulting the precious Slytherins in front of the Potions Master.  Got it."

"…….."

"What are you waiting for? An apology?"

"……"

"Okay, I get the point. Sorry I offended your sensibilities."

"What is with your sense of humor, Potter?  I liked it better when you didn't have one."

"My cell's next to Augustus Zabini's, and Lucius Malfoy lives on my other side.  Now where do you think my sense of humor came from?" 

"People wonder how you remain sane in this place, Potter.  Now I know."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"You're not sane.  Haven't been sane for a while, I'd say."

"No, really.  Isn't that what the last ten magi-psychologists said?  But hey, you can't take their word for anything these days.  They're crazier than I am.  And _that's_ certifiable."

"What are you doing, Potter? What's the purpose of all this? And why me of all people?  Merlin knows that if I never saw your face again, it'd be too soon."

"What do all prisoners of Azkaban want, Severus?  You should know the answer to that question."

"They want out."

"Exactly."

"And you want me to help you escape."

"Uh huh."

"You are more deranged than a rampaging Hippogriff if you think I'm going to help you get out."

"Why not, Severus? Give me one good reason."

"……"

"What gives anyone the right to dictate what is right or wrong?  Or how people should be rewarded or punished for their actions?  I defeated Voldemort and single-handedly captured more Death Eaters than any Ministry Auror.  They think I should be penalized for my methods and for the people I have killed.  I think I deserve to live out the rest of my life in relative peace.  I didn't have to do anything.  I had no obligation to save the world.  I killed Voldemort for revenge."

"……"

"And _that_ is more than I have told any reporter or hotshot magi-psychologist in three years.  I'm under no obligation to sit here in Azkaban for eternity for saving the world.  You're under no obligation to keep me in Azkaban in the eyes of any law.  You know what Fudge is.  What I didn't expect was him following in Crouch's footsteps and not even giving me a trial.  That was rather irritating."

"You spent three years in this hell-hole because of that order, and you call it irritating?  How very Gryffindor of you." 

"I've never been what you would term normal.  After all, I did commit those 'crimes', unlike another escaped prisoner I could mention."

"Well, as interesting as your little speech is, I do find that I have a perfectly good reason to refuse your request."

"Yes?"

"Because I hate your guts, Potter.  Isn't that reason enough to want you to suffer?"

"Ah, yes, there is that."

"……"

"I see.  I'm sorry to bring this up, I really am.  However, I do recall an incident in the War in which I stopped a certain _Avada Kedavra_ curse from killing a certain grumpy Potions Master…"

"……"

"Need I go on?"

"You've proved your point, Potter.  All right, as long as I'm rid of this ridiculous life debt business I never seem to stop suffering from.  Must be the Potter genes.  I do have a question, though.  Answer truthfully."

"Of course."

"What would you do if I released you?"

"Do it and find out."

TBC

Next chapter: We meet our main narrator, the ever gracious Mr Draco Malfoy, Ministry lackey, top Auror and watch him have a Very Bad Day.   

Thank you so much to beta reader Ice Queen for her ever helpful comments and inspiration.  I don't know how many new ideas were spawned in the middle of science classes.  If it weren't for your encouragement this might have never come to life. 


	3. The Storm Has Begun

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Chapter Two: The Storm Has Begun

_Italics: dates and thoughts_

**_Bold and italic: things on paper_**

_[italics] : memory flashes and flashbacks _

_The First Day: 2008_

Clouds were moving to cover the sun, which was drifting away as if it was bashful of showing its face.  

---------

They had thought it to be a false alarm.  After all, in these times of peace and prosperity, crime rates were at an all time low (figures from the Daily Prophet, Special Edition) and the people were happy with the Ministry.  The Aurors didn't have much to do, and there were rumors of staffing cuts in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

So, when they heard the blood-curling screams and determined their location – central London, can you believe the cheek? – they didn't think much of it.

However, regulations were regulations and they had to send someone to check it out.

"Michael, get your ass in here!" Lazy Operative #1 shouted.

"What?" was the (un)enthusiastic reply.

 "There's a thing in Central London, go check it out!"

"Why, what is it?" Michael was a pale, freckled young man with his head perpetually pointed towards the ground.

"Probably a prank of some sort.  Be careful anyway."  Replied Lazy Operative #2.

So Michael went, dropping by the Leaky Cauldron for a drink before heading towards the site.  Hey, he was a growing boy and he needed his snacks.

The important matter of an anniversary present for his girlfriend occupied his mind as he went up and knocked on the door.  He was still thinking about the cheap talisman he saw for sale in one of the Diagon Alley shops when no answer came and he had to force the door open.  It was still in the back of his mind as he searched for any sign of people.

He stopped thinking about talisman necklaces when he saw the bodies.

***********

Rain clouds gathered beneath the dark roof of the sky.  A breeze picked up.  A passing stranger shivered in the cold.

Elsewhere…

"It's going to rain."

"Why, thank you for that astute observation."

"Grumpy as ever, Severus."

"How many have you taken, Potter?"

"Three."

*********

_The Second Day_

If anyone at the Hanged Sphinx were doing anything else other then drinking their brains out, they'd have noticed the newcomer amongst them.  He was a tall and graceful young man with blond hair and cold grey eyes whose whole posture screamed defiance and rebellion.  Yet if someone looked closely enough they would see that his left leg dragged a little as he walked.  

On a normal day, all the patrons of this particular establishment would have been too smashed to notice anything at all, which was what made the Sphinx such a popular spot for shady dealings.  Not that there is much of that these days.  Oh no.

However, today someone was watching and noticing.  This particular someone also had a rather unfortunate sense of humor.  All these factors added together decided what would happen at the next moment.

The watcher stuck out his (as chance would have it, wooden) leg.  The young man, focusing all his energy on his walking posture, did not seem to see him.  He tripped.

Or he would have, if he hadn't suddenly sat down on the seat opposite the watcher faster than one could blink.  The wooden leg tripped a poor waitress instead.  She was new and rather nervous, and her plate was full.  The sounds of laughter and drunk people went on around them as she bent to retrieve the broken glass with a glazed and overstressed look on her face.

The watcher took pity on her and waved his wand vaguely in the direction of the waitress.  The glasses repaired themselves instantly.  The young man watched all this with a contemptuous gleam in his eyes.

As the waitress ran off, muttering her thanks, he spoke.

"What do you want, Longbottom? I thought I made it clear that this was my vacation week." 

Neville Longbottom laughed quietly at the words, spoken totally without inflection in a drawling voice that would have made many people's skin craw four or five years ago.  Now, they were all more or less used to it.

"Special job for you, Malfoy.  Briefing in two hours."  With those words, he got up and left, leaving Draco Malfoy glaring daggers at his back.  The head of the Aurors never did say more than what was absolutely necessary.

"Fuck you, _Neville_." 

*************

_Two Hours Later_

_Ministry Building_

Crowds of loudly chattering people parted ways for him as Draco stormed his way around the building.  This was _not_ turning out to be a good day.  First day of his vacation, and he gets called back.  It'll probably be some stupid idiot trying to make pacts with demons for gold again.  Are such trivial matters fit to be bought to the attention of Draco Malfoy, top Ministry Auror? Of course not.

No one listened to him complain anymore, either.  Everything's so happy and wonderful that it's sickly.  Really.  Must he be subjected to news of engagements, honeymoons and new children every day?  The Ministry was worse than a tabloid rag when it came to rumors.

For all his complaints, if someone tied him up, hung him over a cliff on a rope, and threatened him with the Killing Curse, (and if it was a good day), they might get him to admit that he 'didn't hate' his job.  It would not have been his first choice of career, but ex-Death Eaters, even supposed spies, had little choice anyway.  If it wasn't for the Ministry's star witness, he might have fared much worse.

He was in the second floor corridor before he remembered that it was a Saturday, and therefore the briefing room would be on the fifth floor.  With a groan and a few choice words about the Ministry's Apparition laws, Draco began to climb what the interns termed 'the Unforgivable staircase'.

Fifteen minutes and myriads of swear words in several languages later, a disgruntled Malfoy walked up to an innocent-looking wooden door.  He stared at the sign posted, saying 'do not disturb' and noted the lack of a doorknob or doorbell.  Then he whipped out his wand and tapped the sign twice.

The door dissolved away, and Draco walked in, muttering about paranoid old Aurors. 

The Auror's briefing room was a comfortable room with stuffed red armchairs and polished wood coffee tables.  Portraits of former Aurors decorated the walls.  The only thing out of place in this room was the wall facing west.  It was made of what seemed like black border at first sight.  

Three people were currently lounging in the room, having tea and chatting amiably amongst themselves.  The first was the watcher in the Sphinx.  His name was Neville Longbottom, and he was the Head of the Aurors.  This might have seemed unlikely to anyone who knew him at school, but he had grown and changed much during the War.  Now in possession of a wooden leg and a sense of humor that was notorious in the Ministry in general, there seemed to be nothing of the timid boy he was in the man he had become.  He waved Draco over to his table, where he was currently engaged in conversation with another man.  Grumbling half-heartedly, Draco walked over and sank into one of the armchairs, thankful for the small comfort.  It was almost a necessity, with all the Aurors who had gained disabilities in the War.  

He glanced over at Longbottom and started as one amber eye met his across the table.  Remus Lupin was someone he hasn't seen for a while.  He did not look much different. His hair was still streaked with silver and his robes were still shabby.  The only change was that one of his eyes was now a dull hazel, a poor replacement after he lost the eye to a silver arrow in combat.

"So, what brings you here, Lupin?  Still job hunting?"  He drawled, pasting one of his more annoying smirks on his face.  Hey, if he was suffering, someone has to be suffering with him.

"I'm an Unspeakable, actually.  I hear you've done well here, Mr. Malfoy." Was the unflappable reply.  Draco sighed internally.  It was no fun when they were so difficult to rile up and had a comeback for everything he said.  Still, he couldn't let it go without another parting shot.

"Moved up in the world, haven't you."  Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Longbottom.  "So, what was so urgent you had to drag me out from my first real vacation in three years?"

"Really, Malfoy.  Didn't I give you a month off last year?" 

"Two words, Longbottom.  Sex.  Demons.  Remember?  I'm sure you do."

To his credit, Longbottom didn't even flinch at the less-than-happy memory.  He looked unruffled by the whole thing, except that if you looked very closely, you could see the slightest flush on his cheeks.

He did, however, change the topic extremely quickly.

"Right.  Down to business."  All trances of friendliness disappeared off Neville's face, leaving behind a professional mask.  He took out a rolled up piece of parchment from somewhere inside his large cloak.

"I think you'll find this most interesting."

********************

It was a simple piece of parchment.  The words were written in unremarkable black ink with the blocky script that was typical of Ministry memos.  What made it more incredulous was the fact that the information it yielded was even more unexceptional.

Three brutally murdered in central London home.  It was really quite commonplace these days, mostly former Death Eaters who had gotten off easy letting off steam.  Most Aurors wanted nothing more than to catch the bastards and make them pay but the Ministry higher-ups seemed not to care.  Or, as Draco privately thought to himself, they were in the old families' pocket, which was a lot more likely.

He continued in this cynical line of thought for some time, until he reached the end of the report.  The words froze him on the spot

**_Body Identification: Baddock, Malcolm; Baddock, Melody; Baddock, Richard._**

If anyone were looking closely enough at that moment, they would have seen his hands shaking slightly as they held the paper.  Fortunately for Draco's sanity, neither Longbottom nor Lupin seemed to notice.  If they saw anything wrong, they kept their mouths shut.

**_Body Identification: Baddock, Malcolm…_**

An image formed in his mind's eye of a small boy with brown hair and defiant blue eyes.  The Baddocks weren't really a big family, so the boy had been something of an underdog in Slytherin house.

He didn't really know any of the Baddocks well enough to feel anything but pity for them.  What really threw him was the fact that whatever else they might have been, the Baddocks were definitely a _Death Eater_ family.

**_Other notes: A Projection in the shape of an ankh was seen on the walls.  (ref. The Hunter's Mark) _**

Even Draco, who had no memory of the Scourges, knew what that meant.  The mark of the Hunters.  Those who had dedicated themselves to persecuting former Death Eaters and bringing them to justice in the 'Clean up' stage of the war.  They were ruthless, certainly, but not a group of cold-blooded killers by a long shot.   

**_Markings and scars: numerous slashing marks, badly mutilated corpses._**

Death Eater methods, the Hunter's Mark…It didn't add up right.  The two groups understandably loathed each other and each tried to distance themselves from the other for as long as possible.  Only a Hunter would know how to cast the Mark, so…

"How many Hunters are there left?"  _How many are still sane and not rotting in Azkaban?_

"About eight or nine.  The 'War Hero' bunch, who've got enough power and credibility to keep themselves out of prison; the nobodies, who no one even bothers to lock up because they're such non-issues; those who keep a low profile and do work for the Ministry; and those who are still on the run." 

Not many suspects, then.  

Granger-Weasley.  Not likely.  She's such a bloody recluse these days she probably doesn't even come out of the house.

One of the remaining Weasleys?  Maybe.  They've all settled down now, more or less, but that family has some serious anger management problems.

Finnigan? Definitely not.  He's something of a family man these days, if such a thing is even possible.

And that leaves…

"The Ministry has a prime suspect already, so you can stop going through checklists in your head, Malfoy."  Longbottom chuckled darkly as he handed Draco an envelope, stamped with the 'top secret' Auror seal.

He torn the envelope open carefully, curious to find out what drivel the Higher-ups have sprouted this time.  As his fingers touched the parchment, a cold feeling went up his arm.  He shuddered imperceptibly.  His entire arm felt like ice.  It's definitely not good, then.

Whatever dark thoughts he might have had regarding the suspect's identity, the reality of it still shocked him to the core.

****

**_H. J. Potter_**

****

No.  Not Him.

****

**_Is suspected of murdering the Baddock family_**

****

Never again.  

_[What's the matter, Draco?  Isn't this what you've always wanted?]_

Never again will he have green eyes filled with intoxicating power cutting him open and leaving him bleeding dry.

_[Death is no joke, Malfoy.  Least of all to those who worship its ways.]_

Never again.

"No."  He was surprised to hear how steady and final his voice was.  Normally he would be shaking after a flash of memory as strong as the one he just had.

"I beg you pardon?"  Lupin, his eyes full of polite concern, as if he somehow knew…

"What are they, lunatics?  Potter may be a lot of things, but he never killed without reason, even in the worst days."  At least, that's what everyone says.  Draco personally does not remember much, bar the memory flashes.

Longbottom shook his head, eyes full of a melancholy dark shadow Draco had often seen in the eyes of those who had seen too much in the War.  He sees it in the mirror every morning, even though he has the blessing of a blank memory, even though the War is still a blur to him. "That's what I told Fudge, but he's never listened to the Aurors and he's not about to start now.  He's absolutely certain that Harry _has_ to be behind this."

"And isn't he supposed to be still rotting in Azkaban?  How long did they give him?"

Lupin's soft murmur of "Life sentence" barely penetrated the fog in his mind, even filled as his voice was with anger and hopelessness.

Draco looked up.  He stared straight at Neville for the first time since opening the envelope.  "Look, you want me to do this investigation, right?  Then stop making me drag answers out of you.  You're holding back.  I don't like it.  Tell me everything or I swear to you I will walk off this job right now."

To his surprise, Longbottom only threw back his head and laughed in response.  The sound echoed off the walls, sounding eerily like the cries of the ghosts in Malfoy Manor in the old days.  

"That's what I like about you, Malfoy.  You're straightforward.  All right.  I'll tell you."  _But you won't like it at all._  The words lay unspoken, but Draco felt their weight like a vice grip on his ribs.

"No more games.  Spill."

"It was really quite ingenious of him.  If I wasn't doing a location check of the Hunters for this investigation, no one would have known he was gone until his next interview with Cho.  And that's not for another month."  

No one envied Cho Chang's job.  She worked at St. Mungo's and had to do routine checkups on all those who had been admitted there during or after the War for psychological trauma.  Especially as it was difficult to get a word out of most of her patients, as most of them were trained to resist interrogation during the War. 

All this passed through Draco's mind in a flash.  The majority of his brain was currently engaged in another activity, one he deemed far more important.  Denial.

"He GOT OUT?"  He half-shouted and immediately regretted it at the smirk Longbottom was fighting – and failing – to hide.

_Damn._

"He could have been out as early as a whole week ago or just yesterday.  We don't know anything for sure."

_Oh Hell._

"And you want me to track him down so you can trial him for murder – again."

"Yep."  Longbottom was smirking openly now.

_Oh bloody Hell._

"By all reports, he's supposed to be insane!  How did he get out?"

"Don't you worry about that.  You just have to track him down."

_I'm as good as dead.  What were they thinking?_

"I'm not sure you understand this, Longbottom, but Potter and I have a very long and complicated history.  He sure as hell won't be happy to see me again.  Actually, I believe it more likely that he will curse me on sight."

He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble.

"He doesn't have a wand.  He isn't even supposed to be able to cast _Lumos_."  A pause that becomes far too long.  "Unless you know something I don't regarding Harry?"

_Great.  I can't tell them anything.  There's so much they don't know about their ex-golden boy that I'd love to throw in their faces, but I can't say anything because I don't remember enough to sound creditable.  Just great._

"Well, Draco?"

A Potter might prefer to suffer in silence but a Malfoy does not take such stupidity.  It was time to take a gamble.

"You tell me, Longbottom.  Isn't he your Boy Who Lived?  How would I, the nefarious former Death Eater know anything about the great Harry Potter?"

Longbottom did not look angry at Draco's words, aimed to hurt.  In fact, he looked slightly disappointed.  "It was just a stab in the dark, Malfoy."

Draco's relief was so heartfelt he had to fight to show nothing on his face.  

_He knows nothing, then._

"Work on your aim next time, Longbottom.  One might think that you had regressed to your Hogwarts days.  So, did the Higher-Ups assign me a watchdog?  After all, they wouldn't want the _Nocturnal Eagle_ to get a hold of this."  

Realising what he had just said, he groaned.  Since the _Prophet_ had become Ministry-controlled two years ago, Rita Skeeter and a few other journalists left the paper and formed the _Nocturnal Eagle_.  While most regard it as a tabloid trying to discredit the Ministry, Draco knew that most of what they printed was actually much closer to the truth than the lies force-fed to the public by the _Prophet._

There was a silence.  Lupin, who had remained silent throughout the discussion, looking around the room with disinterested eyes, suddenly looked uncomfortable.  His voice, when he spoke, was still calm and pleasant.

"Actually, Bode managed to persuade Fudge to send an Unspeakable with you.  He wanted someone who knew Harry, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

_This just gets better and better._

Draco would never admit it, but ever since the revelation about Lupin in his third year, he had started harbouring a small amount of fear for the apparently kind and frail man.

Longbottom broke in to his revere.  "So, Draco, yes or no?  Tell me now.  If you say no, I have to go get Moody out of retirement." 

"Moody?  He can't even see his own fingers these days."  Draco drawled disdainfully, shuddering inside at yet another former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher he had acquired an immortal fear of.  Even though he knew it wasn't really him, the ferret incident still made him wince, fourteen years later.

"Yes or no?"

That was the question, wasn't it?  He was half inclined to say no, but then he realised his only real reason for saying so.  Him, afraid of meeting Potter again?  Never!  Besides, if he said no, he'd never live it down from Longbottom.

"All right."

If he'd been listening carefully enough at that moment, he would have heard two collective sighs of relief.  As it is, he was busy planning his next sentence.

"One condition – as soon as this thing is over, I get a month off – no interruptions at all.  Got it?"

"Deal."

They shook on it.

**************

_Somewhere else_

"Only three, Potter?  One would think that playing leader in the war would have improved your meagre chess skills."

"I don't think it's possible for me to be good at chess anymore than you are able to speak a sentence without insulting anyone."

"I'm glad you have an accurate self-image."

Silence.

"Do you get the Nocturnal Eagle delivered?"

"Yes.  At least they sometimes print real stories, as opposed to just blowing the Ministry's trumpet."

"Can I see?"

Shuffling of papers.

"Ah."

"What's so interesting, Potter?  You look even more ghoulish than you normally do." 

"I need to leave now.  Thanks for tea, Severus.  I don't think we'll meet again."  
  


"And I'll be all the more glad for it.  Evening, Potter."

******************

_Dusk that day_

_Auror's Briefing Room, Ministry Building_

Remus sighed as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from his eyes.  His right eye always hurt like that when it rained.  It's a warning, Peter would have said.  Bad things happen on stormy days.  Peter was always a little obsessed with dramatics.  

He would have laughed bitterly at the irony if the thought didn't still sting deep.  Nearly thirty years after the old Marauders had graduated, high-spirited and ready to take on the world, and this is where they ended up.

James, dead by the hand of the Dark Lord.  Peter, the man who betrayed James, still on the run, hiding from his old friends.  Sirius, the innocent man even now hunted for a crime he did not commit.  And him, working with the same people who had condemned Sirius, only this time, he was helping them to track down and condemn James' son, the one they owed everything to.

Remus would have thought that Draco, being Harry's old arch-rival, would relish the chance to humiliate his counterpart.  Curiously, the younger Malfoy was strangely reluctant to take on the task of tracking Harry down.  He was currently engaged in a staring contest with a photo of Harry, taken before his incarceration.  The former professor decided to snap him out of it before he could become permanently cross-eyed.

"Malfoy."  There was no reply.  Lupin decided to try a different tactic.

"Draco."  The young man in question snapped his head up, his eyes still slightly unfocused.  

"What did you just call me, Lupin?"

Thoughts running though his head about touchy young Aurors, he replied.  "As we will possibly be working together for the next few weeks, I think it would be more efficient for us to refer to each other on a first name basis."

Draco looked like he was about to argue, and then changed his mind.  "All right."

Lupin nodded.  "Right.  I think we can safely say that we won't accomplish anything more by sitting here and reading back copies of the _Prophet_.  We need better sources."

Draco suddenly looked amused.  "What do you think we are doing?" His brow wrinkled in concentration, and then he continued, "Remus."

Lupin was oddly pleased that his old student had remembered his first name correctly.  But the question he posed…

"You mean to say…"

The blond snapped his fingers, once.  "I knew there was a reason Snape despised you so much."

He raised an eyebrow in response.

"It's because you're actually halfway competent, as opposed to total idiots like some of the other Defence Against the Dark Arts professors."

"Why thank you for that generous compliment, Draco."

Draco merely shook his head and went on, his eyes glinting.  "They want us to track down Potter.  I say we investigate the actual murders instead.  If Potter's responsible, it should lead us to him.  If he's not responsible, the murders will probably lure him out into the open anyway."

Remus nodded, impressed.  Maybe Neville was right about Malfoy.  A thought belatedly struck him.  "Do you think that's what the murderer is trying to do?"

"Lure Potter out into the open?  Maybe.  But then the murderer would have to be someone who knew he was going to break out of Azkaban, or someone who found out even before the Ministry did."

Lupin grinned ruefully.  "I don't think that's very difficult."

"Having worked in this hell-hole for the last two years, I think I'd have to agree with you on that."

*************************

_Sometime later_

_Somewhere_

"On the run again, Harry Potter?  There is indeed no rest for the wicked, is there?"

Not very far away, a dark-haired young man inclined his head, as if listening to something only he could hear.

"You'd know better than me."

***************

_Early Evening_

_Granger-Weasley Residence_

The house – a mansion, really – was not like how you had seen it.  An enormous, foreboding gothic monstrosity, it was most unlike either of its occupants.  You wonder if they find the contrast amusing.  Probably not, you decided.  Neither of them have your well-developed sense of irony, your way of appreciating the cards dealt to you by fate.  

There were many layers of magical energy overlapping each other, a burst of primary colours so bright they almost seemed real to your vision.  Hexes and enchantments, most of them barely legal, guarded the mansion, daring any intruder to try and invade its vaunted halls.  You think yourself smarter than they.

Stepping up to the gates, you rang the doorbell.

*************

"For the ancient Chinese, the 'Immortals' were beings worthy of respect and they gave generously…"

_Freude, schoener Goetterfunken,  
Tochter aus Elysium,  
Wir betreten feuertrunken,  
Himmlische dein Heiligtum…_

Dr Hermione Granger-Weasley looked up from her book, scowling as the doorbell played the chorus of 'Ode to Joy' over and over.  She hated unscheduled visiters.  

Hermione flicked on the security monitor, prepared to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, and froze.

She blinked, two seconds later, and ran outside for the first time in two years. 

**************

To Be Continued

Next Chapter:  Hermione remembers the War.  Harry talks about his capture.  Draco chases shadows.  Pandora's box has been opened – but is hope still alive?

Thanks section

Thank you to all the reviewers of chapter one: f0xyness39, Vanessa (of course she did.  The time was something I fixed later on.), Natalie (let's hope so), Fanny chan (I try to write as fast as I can), Ice Queen (maybe…), JadeDragon (*blushes* thank you!), and Antigone.  Your praise means a lot to me. 

Lastly, to beta reader Ice Queen, thanks for putting up with me at all times.


	4. Hope Loves Despair

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Chapter Three: Hope Loves Despair

WARNING: This is a fanfic that depicts war.People tend to die in wars.Therefore, this fic will contain character deaths, mostly in flashbacks, but who knows what will happen? ^_^

A/N: Beta-ed by Lia, fellow Kiwi and by Blade Mistress AKA Ice Queen, on vacation in the South Island, lucky thing that she is.Thanks to Koanju for reading a rough draft of the first part over and Proserpina for listening to my babbling.Lastly, I know you're not reading this, Silver Serpent (you H/D fanatic, you ^_~) but thanks for listening to me ramble on the phone.

To my reviewers: Redrum, Anna Phoenix, Slashybubble, Kerry Leprechaun, Moonchild, Fanny chan and Koanju, thank you all.You make my worst days so much brighter.

***************

_Halloween, 1998_

_The Fortress of Azkaban_

_ _

It was like being in a B-grade horror movie, complete with shrill screaming, creaking steps, bad odours and blood splats.The scenes of carnage before them now were even worse than the one they had just left behind.Hermione froze for a second, her mind struggling to comprehend the extent of the destruction, before she snapped herself out it.She turned and shook Ron on the shoulders, trying to wake him from the strange dazed state he seems to have slipped into since the last chamber.

The haze in his blue eyes cleared instantly.He blinked and turned to Harry, who was threading a hand through his hair, trying to make it lie still.The only thing this accomplished was to dye his dark hair with red and brown streaks of blood and grime.His normally pale fingers were almost completely crimson.The sword of Gryffindor was bathed in blood.He caught Hermione's eye and smiled reassuringly.

"Let's go."

As they walked on, constantly side-stepping bodies and hands reaching up to grab at thin air, Hermione had to fight to contain her rising nausea.She felt sick.None of them had expected this final day, their hour of victory, to contain so much blood, so much pain, and so much death.Not even Harry had ever come close to seeing something this terrible, even in his worst nightmares.As she stepped over yet another corpse- _is that Penelope Clearwater? _– Hermione repeated her silent mantra.

_It's almost over.It's almost over._

Shuffling, footsteps.She groaned internally as the sounds registered.

"Did you hear that?" 

"Goddammnit! I have to get to Dumbledore and Voldemort before it's too late.We really don't need another batch slowing us down."

Hermione's mind was working overtime.Harry's desperation was evident, and from the sound of the footsteps, there were quite a few Death Eaters heading this way.They couldn't afford to have that group at their heels while they tried to take down Voldemort.Their secrecy had been compromised half an hour ago, so there really was no time left.

So…decision made, she caught Ron's eye.He nodded back at her, their silent communication having been perfected in their years as friends, then as lovers.His voice was hoarse from shouting, but it was steady as he spoke. 

"Go on, Harry, we'll hold 'em off for you."He reached out and gave Harry a push forward before he could protest.Harry took one glance at their determined expressions and realised that arguing was not something they had time for.

"Alright, but you take care of yourselves, okay?"Two nods later, he sped off in the direction of Voldemort's chamber. 

Ron and Hermione turned to face the onslaught.

For a while, there was nothing but death, protection and survival on her mind.To survive she had to kill.To kill was to protect.It was hard to tell which enemies were real and which were imagined in the ensuring chaos.They were hopelessly outnumbered.They fought mindlessly.It seemed like eternity would pass with them killing, hurting, being hurt, their universe centred on a pin pick of reality.

Through the hailstorm of curses and counter curses, she heard a strange whizzing sound.She glanced in the general direction just in time to shout a warning.It was too late.She watched, as if in slow motion, as the silver arrow (designed for werewolves or vampires, the back of her mind supplied) shot towards Ron.

She watched as it pierced his skin.She watched as it tore through his heart.She watched, as if in a dream, as he fell to the ground, bleeding scarlet all over the cold stone floor.Ron Weasley was no werewolf or vampire, but he was a mere mortal, easily wounded, easily killed.

Hermione watched as he bled, knowing that all she knew died with him, knowing that she could not save him, and she was silent as all she saw became covered with splendid crimson. 

She doesn't remember the next ten minutes or so because they have been painted over with red.When she became aware again, she was clutching his body to her and sobbing quietly, tearlessly, with the bodies of Death Eaters surrounding them.His blood stained everything she saw, her hair, her robes, and the floor.It was a surrealistic painting where the artist in the grips of delirium had access to only red paint.

Harry was standing next to her, his face blank and lifeless.There was nothing of his usual composure in his expression.He seemed lost, stripped of all emotion or power.

"Harry!" He didn't even blink."Harry, what is it?Is Dumbledore –" Her voice cracked.She could not go on.

He nodded once.His voice, when he spoke, was without inflection."He's dead.We've lost."This was incomprehensible to Hermione.It just couldn't happen.One's world did not simply just end like that.She had to ask, even if his eyes warned her that she would not like what she heard.

"What do you mean?What happened?"

"I failed.Voldemort got away somehow.Dumbledore's dead.Ron's dead.It's all over.And it's all my fault."She was silent.What would one say to that?The disaster they have just experienced was so catastrophic that neither knew what to do.Hermione was grasping at straws, trying not to drown.After a painfully long silence, she spoke again.

"It's not your fault, Harry.We all know how powerful Voldemort is.If Dumbledore couldn't defeat him, we certainly can't expect you to…" He cut her off.

"No, You don't understand.I had a chance. I could have finished him.I know I could have.I just know it somehow."He sank to the floor, his eyes trained on the arrow sticking out of Ron's chest.After another eternity, he looked up again, his eyes wild and desperate.

"Maybe I was wrong.Maybe we should have practised.Then it might have worked."Throwing his head back, he laughed wildly."God, I wish Malfoy was here.He'd just love this."

Hermione had had enough at this point.She was tired, she was scared and she felt like she'd die from grief.So she lashed out. 

"What are you talking about?Make sense, dammit."He jerked back as if she'd hit him.

'The Killing Curse.The third Unforgivable.Avada Kedavra, whatever you want to call it.It didn't work.I don't know, maybe I was too weak, maybe he was protected from that sort of thing."He bowed his head, curling up into a tiny ball, and stopped moving altogether.

"What are we going to do now?"

Hermione tried to think, she really did.Her mind was her greatest weapon and it had never yet failed her.But at that moment, all she could think of was the blood.So they sat still and unmoving.

They stayed that way for a long time.

********************

_ _

_Evening, The Second Day, 2008_

_Granger-Weasley Residence_

_ _

Ron had been everything to her – a constant when everything else was uncertain, a shoulder to lean on when things went wrong.He had held her together when news of her parents' death came, and sometimes he was the only thing holding the trio together, unlikely as it seems, with Harry's mind unravelling rapidly and her temper getting shorter everyday.They had been talking of marriage.They were young, yes, but with the looming war, one never knew what might happen.After his death, everything changed.

It was on a wonderful day, just like this one, that her life had ended.

Now, a pair of green eyes from her past were staring at her with a strange blankness, daring her to wake from her self-induced hibernation and exile from society.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Hermione."

She stood there, staring at him, for a good minute before her mind kicked in and she dragged him inside.

"What do you think you're doing, just standing out there like that?What if someone sees you?You just got out, I'm sure you don't want to go back again."

Hermione frowned up at him, or at least, tried her hardest to.It was hard to be angry at someone she knew had been suffering in a hell-hole in the past three years.He reached out and touched her hair, as if afraid that she wasn't real.

"It's good to see you."

She nodded, an answering smile starting to creep up on her face.She felt alive again.It was like being bought out of deep-freeze, like being struck by lightning.It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.She was finally back to doing what she was born to do.

"Did anyone track you?Does anyone know you're here?"Without waiting for a reply, she whirled around and starting walking, expecting him to follow.Up the stairs, into the third floor corridor – and no, the irony of this did not escape her – second door from the left.Ah.The cornerstone.She whipped out her wand, started to twirl it, and then stopped to stare at it.God, She hadn't really used it for so long. Just the common household spells, really.Nothing powerful.

_Ah well.Here goes nothing._

She twirled her hand in a precise motion and cast the strongest shielding/anti-detection charm she knew on the Cornerstone, which held all of the mansion's security spells."Alright.Now they won't be able to find you unless they walk in here."She nodded in satisfaction."And I'll be damned if I let any of Fudge's cronies into _my_ house."

The sound of a chuckle made her jump.Hermione turned to see Harry leaning against a wall, almost beaming at her.

"I'm glad to see you too, Harry, but what's so funny?"

"Some things never change, do they."He shook his head and started to count on his long fingers."In order: I was waiting for you to open the door; if they see me then there's always _Obliviate_; no, I certainly don't want to go back; I don't think so; and maybe." 

She nodded along, her mind racing, before she got to the 'maybe'."What do you mean, maybe?You're usually better than that." 

He tapped his fingers against the wall."That was when I had a wand, Hermione."

She nodded.Right, he would need a wand, if he were going to get around undetected.Frankly, she thought that he should have done this a long time ago.She had offered to help him get out before, when they discovered that they could not get him out by legal means.He had waved her off then, telling her that she had a new, peaceful life now, and he did not want disturb her new existence.The fact that he would even turn up on her doorstep meant that she had something he desperately needed.That was strange, as he could probably get a wand very easily, unless…

She tried to suppress her gasp of horror and prayed to herself that he did not notice as she realized what he was here for._Oh no.I need a plan.Now._

"Why do you even need a wand, anyway?"_Great, smartass._She could have slapped herself.

"You're the one who told me to ease off the Great Arts, remember?" Of course she remembered the bitter arguments and even more terrible silences afterwards.The rift that never healed until the end of the war.She bought herself out of the memories in time to hear him speak again.

"So, can I have my wand back?"_Oh God._She tried another tactic.

"Well, you can use someone else's, can't you?"She said, attempting to sound reasonable and landing somewhere near hysterical instead."I – I can get you another one, new untraceable charms and all."

He tilted his head, seeming to stare through her in that frightening way of his."What's wrong, Hermione?Did the Ministry take it?Bastards."

Hermione took a deep breath.She couldn't lie to him.She just couldn't.

"Harry, you'd better come with me."

********************

They made their way through the maze-like mansion's seemingly endless corridors and staircases.Harry tried to memorize the way, out of sheer habit, but it was difficult.His mind kept him listening to the rain, which had started yet again, or looking at the strange patterns of the grounding charm work for the mansion when he should have been thinking about more important things.

Memories, carried by the droplets of rain, clouded the air.

Cold stone walls.

_ _

_So much pain in such a small space._

_ _

Darkness, harsh strong lighting.

_ _

_There is nothing for you here._

_ _

The scent of smoke and lavender filling the air.

_ _

_Why this?Why you?Why now?You should know, Harry Potter._

_ _

Blinding red, pain audible.He doesn't care.

_ _

_Those who live to run away, live to die another day._

_ _

Green light.

_ _

_This is the end._

_ _

Not all of them were unpleasant.

The Persian carpet hanging on the wall depicted the four founders of Hogwarts.He smiled when he realised that he looked slightly similar to Salazar Slytherin and that Rowena Ravenclaw had rather large front teeth.

_Wait a minute_…"Hermione, we're going around in circles."

She flushed slightly.Hermione didn't look a day older.It was like she had not aged at all since That Halloween.But then, he reflected, he hasn't changed much either.At least in appearance.

"We're going around because I don't want to go through the Portraits Corridor.It's way too depressing on the best of days."

"That's true.Besides, I don't think the Weasley family portraits would be too happy to see me."These thoughts are too horrible to contemplate, so he pushes them away.

Hermione has stopped to speak to him.She really shouldn't bother.She knows he's never going to change his mind about The Incident.

"That's not true.None of them would blame you for anything that's happened.And even if they do, you shouldn't.None of it is your fault."

He smiled, rather humourlessly."Don't say that unless you believe it."

She sighed, exasperated, and turned to start walking again. "I do! You've got to believe that too."

"Give up, Hermione.You know you'll never convince me."

At the end of one particular corridor she drew out her wand again.This time, Harry could see the magical barrier shielding what must have been a safe.To anyone else, it would have seemed no different to the hundreds of other passages in this mansion.

She tapped the wall in a strange pattern.A small portion of the wall slid open smoothly to reveal the compartment.Harry was impressed, so much so that he did not see her take out a small black box and mutter the trigger words to close the safe.

She presented the box to him, wordlessly.He tried to understand the terrible feeling in his mind, but it was too chaotic.He looked at Hermione enquiringly.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head, biting her lip.She did not want to speak.He took a deep breath and opened the box.

Immediately he could see why she had been reluctant to say anything earlier.His wand, the one possession of his he never lost, the one thing he had kept through capture, battles and so much death, was lying broken into pieces.His one constant companion, gone after all those years.

_"I wonder now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."_

_ _

_……_

_ _

_"Very powerful, that wand.But you knew that already, didn't you, Mr Potter?"_

_ _

_……_

_ _

_"It's just further proof of our connection – even you couldn't deny that."_

_ _

_……_

_ _

_"It's my right hand…I can't use magic with it anymore."_

_ _

_"Oh no.Harry, what are you going to do?"_

_ _

_"Train myself to use my left hand, what else?"_

_ _

_……_

_ _

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

The life of Harry Potter has never been fair or easy.

**************

Hermione winced internally at the pain she could see in Harry's posture.It didn't show on his face, but she had become an expert at reading his body language.She wished more than ever that she could have prevented it from happening.The wand had been almost like a living companion to him, reliable in the war years like nothing else was.He had trusted her to protect it when he couldn't, and she had failed him.

_I hope this isn't turning into a habit._

"I'm sorry, Harry.It's all my fault."She couldn't bear to look at him in so much quiet pain any longer.She bowed her head.She had vowed never to hurt him again after all that he had already been through, but she kept breaking the promise.Warm hands landed on her shoulder, a startling difference to how cold his skin was during the war.

"Hermione."She tried to look up.Couldn't.His tone, when he spoke this time, was soft but commanding, a voice that asked for obedience and was not prepared to accept 'no' as an answer.

"Hermione.Look at me."She couldn't help it.She looked up.His eyes were calm as ever, and he was smiling."It's alright.I don't blame you.I can get a wand another way, but I'll need you to pull some strings for me.There are some things that I need to know.Then after that you can tell me who broke it.Can you do that for me?"

She nodded, staring into his bottomless eyes.How could she have said no?

"I'll do my best.What do you want to know?"

***********

_Earlier that day_

_Somewhere Outside the Baddock Residence_

Lupin turned to Draco, frowning slightly."Do you propose that we just walk in there and try to bluff our way around?And here I thought Gryffindors were the reckless ones."

Draco laughed, seemingly unmoved.Inside, he was more disturbed than he would have liked to admit.A few years ago, someone had uttered that exact sentence to him.A certain someone he was now trying to catch.Or rather, supposed to be trying to catch.

"No, you thought wrong.Gryffindors are the brainless ones."Sparing the idiots who were currently searching the Baddock residence a glance, he added, smirking, "Just like these drones.You recognise any of them from your school days?"

To his surprise, Lupin chuckled airily at the comment."What makes you think I was a Gryffindor?"

_Well._Draco blinked.He had really never thought of Lupin as anything other than a Gryffindor.Connections to James Potter aside, he had seemed to favour the dorks while he was teaching at Hogwarts. 

"Don't tell me, let me guess.Ravenclaw?"

Lupin's grin vanished suddenly."No."Draco's eyes widened for a second before he regained control of his facial expressions. "You're a Hufflepuff?"

Lupin shook his head, smiling ruefully.He raised an eyebrow at the stunned look on Draco's face."I'm a Slytherin.Is that so hard to believe?"

Now that he thought about it, no, it wasn't.Lupin had had quite a reputation during the war.Fully justified, of course, by the number of Death Eaters he had put out of action.Almost as many as Potter, which is a very difficult accomplishment indeed, what with the Boy Wonder's obsession with catching every single Death Eater.

That thought was quickly banished from his mind.

"While we're on the topic of personal history, why this, Draco?I would have thought the Ministry to be low on your list of ideal employers."

Draco snorted."They are.I need something to live on, don't I?"

"The Malfoy estate's earnings would have been more than enough to provide for you, if I'm not mistaken."

"Do you read newspapers at all?"

"I'd rather not know."The reply was flat, but the expression in the werewolf's one remaining eye was strange, as was his evasiveness.Draco decided not to pursue the topic.He knew that they had to have this conversation some time in their acquaintance, so they might as well have it now.

"The Ministry took possession of all estate under the Malfoy name after the war.My father was in Azkaban and I was in a coma.No one around to protest, you see."

He knew his tone was bitter.He knew that his eyes, at that instant, would have scared a lesser man than Lupin.But he did not care._I have a right to be bitter, dammit.I have a right to hate._

"And then when my trial was over, I discovered that Potter had recommended me to the Ministry as possible Auror material. 'Invaluable spying work in the war' and all that.Merlin alone knows why he did it." _Maybe he felt guilty for tearing the Manor apart in his search?_ He wondered, but did not voice it aloud.Some things were better kept hidden, to be revealed at a more advantageous time.

Lupin raised an eyebrow."I do not see you simply concurring with Harry's point of view." 

Draco's dry laugh grated on his own nerves."Believe me, I tried to resist.But then, why would anyone else employ an ex-Death Eater?My allegiances were – are so muddled that not even former Death Eaters would employ me."_Not that I expected them to._"It still annoys me, though."He shook his head."Never mind.Let's go."

"You know this better than I do, Draco._We're not supposed to be here_.You know the kind of suspicion we'd come under if we were reported."

Draco nodded with a smug grin."That's why it's so helpful that there are so many idiots working for the Ministry now.It'd be easy to fool them."

If he was honest with himself, (he rarely was, seeing as he had always been a brilliant liar), he knew that what they were doing now defied rationalization.Given an assignment to catch Harry Potter and bring him to justice (trial him for a murder he didn't commit), he decides to investigate the actual murders instead.Lupin had good reason to be reluctant.If this went to hell, they would both lose their jobs and maybe worse, considering the state of paranoia the Ministry seems to be suffering through right now.

_Oh what the hell.You both know that you have your own reasons for doing this, just as he has his._

"I know you don't trust me much, Lupin.But you're going to take my word on this.I can get us in there.That's all that matters, yes?"

Lupin sighed in resignation._So this is how it has to be._"You first, Mr Malfoy."

*********************

Despite his earlier reservations, Lupin was impressed.Malfoy had walked up to the bored looking Enforcer leaning against the garden fence and flat out demanded to be let in.He was a lot more jaded and tired than he was during his best days, but he could still commandeer quite an intimidating aura.Malfoy has never been subtle, not during school, and certainly not during the war, so he could never carefully manipulate people into doing things for him, as some others do.However, he did have a strong commanding personality, as members of that family are wont to._Some are made lead, some made to serve, _as James's father used to say.Those with weak force of will – he was aware that this was a particularly uncharitable thought – are easily coerced into any action with enough pressure.

"Are you saying that you won't let us in to mourn the loss of a friend?What has the Ministry come to these days?They're just as oppressive as the Dark Lord!" 

Not that a certain amount of intelligence was unnecessary to go along with the personality.Malfoy was attacking a very weak point.Anyone who worked in the Ministry knew how eager the Minister was to avoid comparisons to Voldemort's regime.

"I'll report this to Longbottom.Mark my words, you'll be packing your bags before long!"Lupin almost had to laugh at the indignation mustered up by Draco, both in his tone and on his face.He wondered if Malfoy enjoyed performance like this one.

The young Enforcer, who had sandy blond hair and looked about as green as a cabbage, was starting to panic.There was a hint of fear in his blue eyes.Just a hint, mind, but to someone trained to the emotion, the scent and feel of it, it was written in neon letters all over his face. 

_Poor boy._Lupin felt bad for him, if only for a moment.Then he walked up to join Draco._A little more pressure and he should buckle like a belt._

However, loud and brash intimidation was never his style.He was always the quiet one._Still waters run deep, as they say._Smiling inwardly to himself, he spoke.

"Mr Williams, is it?I can understand your concerns, but surely you see why Mr. Pritchard is so upset."Draco Malfoy's blond hair is lighter than Pritchard's, and he has a much more pleasant profile.However, no one really knows what a St. Mungo's patient looks like, and no one wants to either.That, and the fact that Williams will be too scared of being fired to report this incident makes everything so much easier.

"And how are you related to the decreased, Mr Lupin?"

He decides to do the young man a kindness.Give him one grain of truth in this storm of lies.

"He was a student of mine.His death is a great loss to us."

******************

The initial rush of triumph faded quickly when he stepped into the house, the Enforcer at his side.The dampness in the air affected him more than he let on.His mind felt stuffed with cotton wool.It was not a particularly lovely sensation.The pleasant scent of drying ink and faded parchment was drowned out by the unique faint odour of recent deaths.Draco was more familiar with it than he wanted to be, by a long, long shot.

The bodies have already been removed, but death leaves his marks in more permanent places than mere mortal flesh, to the ruin of some.

Malcolm Baddock had remained alive for at least twenty minutes after the crime, according to the report.By the time his magical signature had faded completely, the murder could have been God knows where.If only someone had found him before he died…

# 

_Regrets never helped anyone._

It was done at midday.September the 27th was cloudy.

_ _

_The sun was drifting into the clouds, its last rays shining through the windows.There was a mild breeze making the curtains flutter.The wooden chairs were warmed by the sun._

The murders had been committed in the dining room.The Baddocks were found lying on the cold floor.

_The family sat, eating dinner.The door bell rang.Malcolm got up to answer. _

The Baddocks were not wealthy.They could not afford security charms.The killer's method of subverting the wards was unknown.

_… …_

The bloodstains have not been cleaned.The wooden chairs and dining table were antique items.Draco sensed a family of disgraced aristocracy, clinging to their roots like drowning men.He winced at the imagery.

_Pain, screaming.Anger.Death._

There are more questions than answers.Draco is good at finding answers.Lupin spoke before he could.

"Have you managed to pick up a magical signature yet?"Williams blinked several times before he found a reply._Slow.Incompetent.Unworthy._

These thoughts are like poison in his veins.He blinks to make sure that he does not miss the reply.

"No luck, I'm afraid, sir.The killer used muggle methods, and we don't have much experience dealing with them."

No luck.

_ _

_Luck is for fools._

_ _

_Indeed.We don't need it, then, do we, Malfoy?_

"What about the weapon used?"

Williams paled.The freckles on his long face stood out.

"As I understand it, sir, there were knives involved, as well as a muggle thing called a gun, but primarily…"

Draco frowned._A muggle thing called a gun.Really, couldn't they get someone with some knowledge of muggle technology on this case?_ He bit down on his impatience.

"Yes?"

"The killer used the Baddocks' wands."Williams looked sick.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lupin school his expression into kindly sympathy."Shouldn't you be able to pick up a signature from their wands then?" 

"The wands were used…physically, sir.Along with some of the kitchen utensils."They both winced at that, Williams because he had seen the bodies firsthand, Draco because he had seen a gleaming silver fork out of the corner of his eye.

**************

Draco winced again, ten seconds later, from a bright flash of light. _Uh oh.Tell me it's not…_

"Hello Mr Malfoy, Mr Lupin!"_Oh damn, it is._Daily Prophet photographer Colin Creevey. _Also known as my worst nightmare.After meeting Voldemort in a dark alley, that is._

Nine years on from his Hogwarts days, the ex-president of the Harry Potter fan club doesn't seem to have changed a bit.Sure, he might have grown a little taller, but he still _sounded _the same.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Remus's reaction.Or rather, his complete lack of.How the man kept such a good poker face when confronted with freaks of nature like this was beyond him.

"Hello Mr Creevey.Doing well at the Prophet, I hear?"To Draco's complete amazement, Lupin had even managed to keep any hints of irritation or impatience out of his voice.

Creevey _bounced._There was no other word for it."Call me Colin, please! I'm great, Mr Lupin!Working for the Prophet is _wonderful_!I'd still do it even if they didn't pay me a Knut!I'm just here today to snap a few photos for tomorrow's _Prophet_." Still beaming, he turned to Draco, who resisted the urge to back away."I've heard so much about your work as an Auror, Mr Malfoy!Do you think you can sit down with me for an interview later?"The puppy-dog eyes were truly frightening.Again, Draco refused to retreat on the grounds of Malfoy family honour and the fact that he'd never live it down from Lupin, or even worse, Potter.

"I'm duly flattered, Creevey.But if you want an interview, you'll have to talk to my agent first."He watched as Williams came out of his shock or maybe Creevey-induced stupor._Damn.Better get ourselves out of here before he fully comes to his senses.Fuck you very much, Creevey._

Remus seemed to agree with his assessment of the situation."Mr Williams, we all have business to attend to, so we'll stop imposing on your valuable time."Turning to Creevey, he smiled."Mr Creevey, would you like to come with us?I'd like to talk with you more.It has been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Of course, Mr Lupin!"Creevey bounced some more.Draco felt the beginnings of a rather large headache. Lupin nodded at him and he began virtually dragging Creevey out by the arm.

"But, but… Aren't you Mr. Pritchard?"The confused cries of Williams the young Enforcer followed them out the door.

**********

_Two Hours Later_

_The Hanged Sphinx_

Draco wanted to bang his head against a wall.Or kill someone.While he considered homicidal urges totally normal after being forced to spend two hours with Colin _frigging_ Creevey of all people, he knew that neither Bode nor Longbottom would not have found it fully justified.So, instead of putting the good old Avada Kedavra on someone (preferably Creevey), he tried to get as drunk as possible.

_Hey, if I'm going to have a headache anyway…at least it will help with the leg pain._

Old habits die hard, as they say.

The goblet was snatched out of his reach by Lupin, who almost appeared concerned.Draco raised his eyes to glare at the man.

"You're the one who dragged Creevey along."

Lupin sighed in that irritatingly long-suffering way of his.

"I had to, you know that.Couldn't have him blabbering to poor confused Mr Williams, could I?"

Draco's forehead touched the cool surface of the table again.He knew all this, but he was never one to miss out on an opportunity to complain.He had an enormous headache, his leg was acting up again, and they had no real leads."Speaking of Williams, what did you do to him?"

Remus raised an eyebrow."What makes you think that I did anything?"

"I'm not stupid.No one can be that naturally thick.What did you do?"He had raised his head to glare again.

"Oh, just a simple Confundus Charm, when we were out of the range of the wards around the house.He should be back to normal in no time, and of course he won't talk."

Draco grinned._This_ was new.He was beginning to have a completely different opinion of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"So this isn't a _complete_ disaster.Yet.I'm so very pleased." 

"So optimistic at such a young age, Draco."Remus shook his head, smiling ruefully."So, what can you see from the murder site?"

"I was about to ask you that."

"I don't usually do murder cases.You, on the other hand, have experience with them, if your File is any indication, Draco."

Draco laughed.Several of the pub's drunken patrons turned to stare.Draco glared at said patrons, who turned away.

"Experience doing what?The murdering or the investigating?"

Remus met his cold eyes with an equally uncompromising one."Both." 

***********************

_ _

_Around the same time_

_Granger-Weasley residence_

Hermione sat back, satisfied.Her reputation as war heroine was still as useful (and as annoying) as ever.She had everything Harry had wanted to know.While she was busy talking to people and overriding red tape, he had taken a walk around the house.She had been afraid that he would get lost, but he waved off her concern with a smile, as always.

Her grin faded as she looked at the sheets of parchment that she now held in her hands.Harry had known exactly what to ask and the questions had yielded incredible answers.What she held in her hands now was a prime example of the corruption and weakness of the Ministry.That was not what concerned her.She had known those things for a long time.Her primary worry was the two names written in flowing script on the top piece of parchment.

"Stop frowning, you'll get premature wrinkles." She looked up.He grinned down at her, seemingly perfectly normal in a way that he hadn't been ever since the beginning of the war.A fact that made no sense whatsoever.Azkaban was supposed to drive people nutters, not help them back to sanity. 

"Thank you for that reassuring statement." It was so natural to just fire back, it almost seemed like she was back at school again, sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"You're totally welcome."He replied, leaning down to read over her shoulder.Hermione held her breath.She didn't have to wait long.

"They _what_?"It seemed that whatever else he was, Harry could still be surprised.And he didn't sound very happy about it.

He blinked and read the names over again, as if making sure he wasn't seeing things.Then he shook his head and laughed out loud.The laughter was genuine and infectious, so much so that she joined in.Still chuckling, he spoke again.

"Dear old Neville.That's just like him, isn't it."He shook his head again, still chuckling.Hermione handed the documents over.He skimmed through them quickly.

"Well, this should be interesting."The gleam in his eyes was reminiscent of the old days. 

Mouse, meet Cat.

Only this time, he is the one hunted.Hermione felt a stab of pity for Remus and even Malfoy for a second.They were in for a rough time.Then she decided that Malfoy, being the git he is, probably deserved it.

"Can I keep these?" He asked, finally calm again.

"Sure." She turned and happened to look at the clock on the wall._Oh Fuck._

"Harry, if you don't want Charlie to see you, you'd better leave now.He's going to be home soon."

"Damn, I counted on him being away."

"He usually it, he's just around to visit Molly."

He sighed.When he spoke again, his voice was dead serious. "Hermione." 

"Yes." She replied cautiously.

"You do realise that anyone eavesdropping on our conversation will think that we are having an illicit affair, don't you?"

She blinked.Then she threw a paperweight at him.

*************

_Ten Minutes Later_

_The Hanged Sphinx_

_ _

They had fallen into an uncomfortable silence after that little confrontation.Draco was nursing his third drink when a small owl almost landed in it.

"Damn incompetent things!"He opened the letter it carried and read it over, his expression darkening.Remus waited.He folded the piece of parchment up harder then was strictly necessary.

"What's wrong now?"

"Bode has so _kindly_ arranged a schedule for us." Draco spat bitterly."We're to go see that Chang woman tomorrow."

**************

_ _

_At the same time_

_Granger-Weasley Residence_

"Do take care, won't you, Harry?I know you didn't murder those people, but the Ministry is really out to get you this time."

Harry smiled."Of course I will, Hermione.You take good care of yourself as well." 

"Don't you worry about a thing."

***************

To Be Continued

Next chapter: Blood is thicker than water.Cho gets some disgruntled visitors, Ginny gets a surprise, and Draco nearly catches a cold.

A/N: I apologise for all the cutting from one place to another.It was necessary, as I was having serious trouble with those last few scenes (The Colin Creevey parts, for example).That was also why this chapter took so ridiculously long to write.For that I apologise as well.The next chapter should be along a lot faster, as I am aiming to finish chapter five before school starts again.That shouldn't be too difficult, as some of Chapter four is already written – most of the Ginny scenes were done before I wrote chapter three.

I want to reassure those alarmed at the appearance of the names 'Cho' and 'Ginny' in the Chapter four summaries that I am not a romance writer and even less of a Harry/Cho or Harry/Ginny writer.So bear with me, yes?^_^Thank you for reading. 


	5. Cloak and Dagger

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Chapter Four: Cloak And Dagger

Disclaimer: Not mine.  It's so not mine.  

A/N: Thanks to betas Sajasma Lee and Blade Mistress, who both do an awesome job.  This story would so not be what it is without you two.  Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: Moonchild (wait and see – I value plot and characterization above romance, though), Blademistress (you are way too kind, Blade), and Kerry Leprechaun.  Thank you for reading.

*****************

_Afternoon, 15th November 2001_

_Resistance Safe house_

The room had no windows.  The dim light provided by the candles made everything look hazy.  The smell of fire and ashes drifted about.  Draco coughed, shifting on the uncomfortable chair.  He thought with longing of the manor library, with its huge glass windows and leather couches.  He wanted to get this over with.

"There's a leak somewhere, Potter."  As if it actually needed saying, with all the resistance members dying lately.

"Really?"  His eyes narrowed.  In the dim light, it was difficult to make out his expression.  "I don't want to make people nervous for no reason.  Do you have proof?"

"No, but even you should be able to see that there has to be a traitor in the Order.  Pretty high up, too."  Draco glared.  "Don't be dense."

"Who do you think, then?"  He raised an eyebrow.

Draco grinned rather savagely.  "Oh, it could be anyone.  Granger – nah, she's a Mud-" He glanced at Harry, shook his head and continued, sneering.  "Fine, Muggle born.  My point is that the Dark Lord wouldn't want her, no matter how _brilliant_ she was."

"Now, maybe one of the Weasleys?  They might need the money, now that their heroic, famous son got himself killed.  I don't know if the little girl has the guts, maybe those twins -"

Draco broke off when Harry snapped the quill in his hand neatly in half.  His voice was cold.  "If you don't have anything useful to say, Malfoy, then bugger off."

"Fine, fine, be that way.  You asked my opinion."

"Your real opinion, Malfoy.  Preferably something that has actually gone through that brain of yours."  He had that strange distant look in his eyes again.  He wasn't going to have much longer until Potter drifted off to wherever insane war leaders go for breaks of sanity.

_Right.  Business.  Father would kill me if I didn't get everything across on time._

"Who has access to the recon reports?"

Harry blinked.  For a moment, it looked as if he had fallen asleep.  The oppressive heat of the room had that effect on people.  "Oh, those.  Me, sometimes Hermione, and Cho."

"Cho Chang?  Why?  Wasn't she working on coordination?"

"She asked to be transferred."  He could see something was going on in Potter's mind, or what was left of it.  The frustrating thing was that he didn't know what.

"It has to be her.  As far as I can see, you have no wish to join Voldemort, or we wouldn't be sitting here right now.  You sure you don't want to consider Granger?"  Harry just stared at him in reaction.  "Fine, then it has to be Chang."

"Ah-ah.  Cho has never given me any reason to doubt her."  He smiled, eyes filled with a strange light, as if he was laughing inside, sharing a joke with the universe that only he could understand.  

It never failed to piss Draco off.

"Do the blow jobs help?"  He grinned internally as his words sliced through the suddenly still air, determined not to back down.

"That's ancient history, Malfoy.  You know that."  He sounded insulted for once.  Draco snickered.  

The break-up had been a messy, public affair in their school days.  Draco had been delighted, oh yes, until he saw that neither of them seemed to care much about the rumours that flew like thick black flies.  Chang had been teary-eyed for a few days, but Potter had been almost too busy to care.

"Just reminding you to put business before pleasure."

All traces of mirth vanished from Harry's face.  "Don't you worry about that."  Suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed.  "Hell, you have no idea."

*******************      

_Two weeks ago (1 November, 2001)_

_Resistance Safe house_

Cho bit her lip.  This was harder than she'd expected.  If she failed…She knew how Harry treated traitors.  Only the wrath of the Dark Lord kept her going.

"Harry, I think…maybe…" She swallowed and tried to sound scared.  "Maybe they've found me out.  The Dark Lord is suspicious."

He glanced up in surprise.  Still polite as ever, always smiling.  _Always so cold._

"Really?  Do you want me to pull you out?  We can function with one less spy."

"No, it's all right."  _Be calm, try to act scared.  Come on, Cho.  For the triumph of the Dark.  You can do this._  "Can you transfer me to recon?"

He didn't reply.  She kept on talking, afraid that she'd lose her nerves if she stopped.  "I can report it to Him as progress and maybe it will help." 

Something flashed though his eyes.  She didn't try to read it.  She could never understand his thoughts, anyway.

"Are you sure?"  That was easy to answer.  This was her assignment.  She had to.  But it didn't seem to be the question he was really asking.

"Of course, Harry."

Something in his expression changed, like a door shutting.  She flinched despite herself. 

***************

_Four hours before Draco and Harry's conversation_

_Morning, 15th November 2001_

_Still the same safe house_

She breathed in deeply.  This was it.  Her opportunity to prove herself.  Success or failure.  Life or death.  She clutched her wand tightly.  

He laughed suddenly and bowed his head.  "Cho, Cho, Cho.  You know I respect you.  You are incredibly beautiful and also very intelligent."  She held her breath, incantation ready – his fingers wrapped around her wrist in a vice grip, startling her into dropping her wand.  "But, you are also a rather lousy actor and have no skills whatsoever at lying."  Her eyes widened in shock.  

"You knew all this time, didn't you?"  Her voice was quietly accusing.  "And you played along.  You tricked everyone."  Cho's body was numb with shock.  She felt like she was about to collapse.  Yes, she did know exactly what happened to traitors.  He supported her over to a chair.

"I'm a much better actor.  Besides, I had other advantages."  He sat down in a chair opposite her.  "Such as how other people see me.  They're used to the wide-eyed, innocent victim of circumstance and all that."

She shivered, not really listening.  Her mind was filled horrible images of what would happen to her at the Dark Lord's hand, now that she had failed.  Better to be here, she decided.

His voice bought her back to the problem at hand.

"I know what you're thinking, Cho.  Don't.  Rest assured, I can be just as bad as Voldemort, when I want to be."  He smiled when he noticed her flinching at the name.  "I'm not that type of person, fortunately for you.  I won't even ask.  Everyone has their own dirty little secrets, after all.  Skeletons in our closets, right?"  He chuckled.

She closed her eyes.  This was too much to take in right now.  He allowed her to sit there, hugging herself for what seemed like hours, before he spoke again.

"You're not Marked, are you?"  Harry shook his head, answering his own question.  "No, you can't be.  Too noticeable with what you're supposed to be doing."

Cho nodded.  Those were the Dark Lord's words, as well.

"That's good.  That will make things a lot easier.  Tell me one thing, Cho."  He almost looked desperate.  A real emotion in his eyes at last.  "Tell me this isn't about Cedric.  Tell me you believed me about his death.  Tell me you didn't lie to me back then."  

She breathed again.  "No, it's not about Cedric, Harry."  His eyes lit up.  "I don't believe you killed him."

"Do you want to know who did?"

She leaned forward.  "Of course."

"You've seen him.  He's always around Voldemort, serving his every whim.  He's called Wormtail."  She nodded.  She would remember that name.  

"Harry."  She held his eyes.  "I know you said that I don't have to, but I owe you an explanation."  Cho looked down, gathering her thoughts together.  "I…I had no intention of doing it at the beginning, I swear.  I really did want to spy for the Order.  I just don't know what happened.  You don't understand.  He…He made me kill, Harry.  And I felt so _powerful_.  I felt like I could do anything."

First the gruelling interrogation, twelve hours in the darkest corners of her mind.  The truth, spilling out of places in her so deep she didn't know they existed.  The pain.  Listening with disbelief as her voice spoke terrible words, things she had surely never thought about.

_He killed him, I know it.  Cedric died and he won the Tournament.  He would never have won otherwise.  Golden Boy of Gryffindor, always winning, always living, even if he didn't deserve to, even if someone else should have lived.  The saviour, the hero, the one who had everything.  Everything comes to him so effortlessly.  If he fails, if his friends and mentors die, so what?  He's Harry Potter.  He gets up and keeps going.  He doesn't even care.  No.  He never did._

These thoughts becoming her world, her only guide to sanity as the darkness never seemed to end.  After what seemed like an eternity, the end, finally emerging into the light, ready to be bent and broken.  Killing.  Welding power she had never dreamed of.  And finally, betrayal, because he had betrayed her first, hadn't he?__

_NO.  I didn't blame him.  I've never blamed him.  None of it was his fault.  I hate…god, I hate this._

"I…"  It almost seemed like too much to explain.

"Trust me, Cho.  I know."

"You believe me?"

He nodded, and she almost collapsed with relief. 

_Thank Merlin._

"I'll keep your secrets, even to the grave.  But there is something I need you to do for me."

She nodded frantically.  Technically, she should be on her way to her own execution now.  But Harry seemed to have other ideas.  Salvation for her.

"First of all, you need to sit down and think about it.  Sort out your loyalties.  I'm sure you don't really want to work for Cedric's murderer.  If you decide that you do, however," Harry stared through her,  "leave now and don't let me see you anywhere ever again."

Salvation, if only she could grasp it.  _No more darkness.  No more lying.  No more pain._

"Of course I want to come back into the Order again.  I swear, Harry, from now on…"

"Secondly, your loyalties must never waver ever again, even for just a moment."  Harry's rules were ruthless.  They've always been.  She nodded.

He stood up and held out his hand.  She took it and pulled herself up, trying to stand straight.  

"Lastly, I need you to lie to Voldemort."

She nearly collapsed again.  "You're sending me back?"

He looked apologetic, but only a little.  His eyes were hard.  "I can't afford to lose spies right now.  Besides, Voldemort trusts you.  We need you for this, Cho."

_You owe me this._

He would have never spoken the words, he was too _kind_, but she knew it.  That was how this worked.  She would never be caught in the backlash if - when the war ended because of her clean slate, and he would benefit from a highly positioned spy.

It was a better deal than the one Professor Snape got from Professor Dumbledore, that was for sure.  And it was probably the best she was going to get.

"All right.  I'll do it, Harry."

****************

_The Third Day, 2008_

_St. Mungo's Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries_

Those events seemed to be a lifetime away these days, but Harry's escape had bought the unpleasant memories back.  The demons she thought she had exorcised forever were just lurking there at the back of her mind, waiting to strike again.

_Did you really think that they were gone?  Think about what you do for a living, girl.  Stop kidding yourself._

She sighed.  She was nearly in her thirties now, and still she remained unmarried, to her parents' chagrin.  She wasn't sure that she could ever live normally again.  Sometimes, Cho wondered at Ginny and Seamus's supposedly blissful new life.  How they managed it was beyond her.

Just when things were about to settle down, Harry just had to go and pull this.  He had seemed as well adjusted as anyone could be in Azkaban and she was hoping to get him transferred to St. Mungo's soon, away from those horrific _things_.  It was the least she could do, after all he did to cover up for her.  But now it was all too late, and she could only watch as things progressed from bad to worse, the giant wheel of history turning and leaving the mundane in its wake.

Cho glanced up as an eagle owl flew in.  It dropped an envelope on her already cluttered desk and flew off, wings spread gracefully.            

The envelope was unmarked save for the wax seal in the shape of the Phoenix.  That was a symbol she had not seen in a while.  Feeling as if her heart was about to jump out of her throat, she ripped open the envelope.

The moment her hands touched the blank pieces of parchment, words appeared in a messy script she immediately recognized.  How could she not?

_Dear Cho_

_Sorry to disturb you after all the trouble I must be causing you lately, but I felt that this is necessary to my safety.  I'm sure that we can both agree that it is best for the both of us that I remain hidden, as my interrogation could yield a lot of secrets none of us want exposed.  You know what I'm talking about._

Of course she did.

_I've always had faith in you, and you haven't given me any reason to doubt you in the last six years, hard as they have been for both of us.  Never mind all that.  I'm sure you know that Auror Malfoy and Mr. Lupin are due to visit you for a briefing on my case. _

She gasped.  No one had told her.  No doubt Bode had arranged this.  He knew that he had more hope of shocking information out of her than anything else.  Cho suddenly found herself very thankful for the letter.

_I'll trust your discretion on what you choose to tell them. _

Or as the case may be, what she would choose not to tell them.  She spared herself a moment to think about what a mess she had gotten herself into, but it was really more of a reflex than anything else.

_Remember – I can't be found, especially by anyone from the Ministry.  However, as Malfoy apparently has no interest in chasing me all over Britain (for which I am very happy), I think I should try to point him in the right direction._

She read the rest of the letter quickly, remembering the instructions off by heart from force of habit.

_Good luck.  Have a nice day._

_Yours,_

_Phoenix._

Cho shook her head, almost smiling.  Phoenix was his old Hunter's designation.  That bought back more memories.  She leaned back as the letter burnt itself, the tiny licks of flame dancing in the cool air of the office, casting shadows on the walls.  Harry was always a little strange.

Standing up, she began preparing herself for two rather unwelcome visitors.

***************

_One Hour Later_

_St Mungo's_

There were several things Draco hated.  This list didn't change.  Sometimes the items on the list changed positions or swapped places, but other than that he was pretty regular about what he hated.

(Never mind that Harry Bloody Potter's position on that particular list seemed to roam quite a bit.  He'd never quite managed to disappear off it completely, but there were times when the number one spot seemed too low for him.)

Colin Creevey, check.  Gryffindors in general and one red headed family in particular, check.  Dementors, check.  The Dark Lord's Amazing Inflatable Ego and twitchy wand hand, double check.

All these things he could place the origin of.  He knew why he hated them and even when each particular hatred had begun.

He didn't know when he had started to hate hospitals with as much fervour as he hated the limp in his walk when the pain came back.  Maybe because he had spent too long in one, just three years ago.

Of course, there was that hospital visit…

To this day, Draco still didn't know how or why Harry had come.  His behaviour had been strange, even for him, their conversation awkward, stilted by years of enmity and rivalry even while being half-allies.  Draco's lost chunks of memory didn't exactly help either.

Harry Potter was a puzzle.  The pieces didn't match up.  They clashed with each other.  When you thought you'd completed a section of the whole, another piece would come along and screw up the whole picture.  His contradictory personality and apparent hypocrisy was infuriating.  He could see why Potter's therapists had gone mad.  Unlike other foolish wizards, Draco had never tried to understand him.  Besides the fact that he had no wish to, it was an exercise in futility.

They had too many questions.  They were here to get some answers.

Bode wasn't stupid.  He had known Potter personally.  If he thought that it would help for them to go see the Chang woman, then he was probably right.

Still, that didn't mean he had to like it.  He had never trusted the Department of Mysteries.  The power they wielded as an almost independent division of the Ministry itself was too strong.  It was part of the reason they had been so invaluable in the war. 

Nevertheless, here he was, in the hospital he hated, with a highly positioned Unspeakable he didn't entirely trust.

He turned to Lupin.  "How well do you know Chang?"

Lupin's face was unreadable as always.  "She's quite clever, not a bad student.  Very polite."

"Not at Hogwarts, Lupin.  Did you work with her during the War?"

"I don't think so.  Most of her work was done directly with Harry himself."  Lupin frowned.  He looked like he was trying to remember something and failing miserably.

"Is she reliable?"

Lupin smiled, the wrinkles in his forehead straightening.  "Cho has never given me any reason to doubt her."

_Doubt…never given any reason…traitors…_

_"It has to be Chang."_

_"Ah-ah.  Cho has never given me any reason to doubt her."  _

Draco placed a hand against the wall to steady himself.  The memory flashes seemed to be getting stronger.  He tried not to show any outward discomfit.  Still, he was sure his facial expression was betraying him.  There had to be shock all over his features.

"Chang was the traitor."

Lupin turned to stare at him in disbelief.  "I beg your pardon?"

"I was the one who tipped Potter off.  It was never investigated – don't ask me why – but she was definitely the top suspect."

Lupin nodded.  "That would be useful.  If I know Bode, he hasn't told her that we're coming.  It's one of his favourite tactics.  Combined with this, we should have the upper hand."

Draco didn't try to suppress his smirk.  Things were definitely getting interesting.

************

Chang welcomed them into her office warmly enough.  She didn't look overtly surprised.  She was a small woman with bright eyes and greying hair.  'She must worry an awful lot,' Draco thought.  'And I don't blame her.'

Chang's office was just like the rest of the hospital, sparse and sterile to the point that it made his skin crawl.  The only highlight was the bottle of brandy on one of her shelves.

She looked slightly guilty once she realised what he was staring at.  "Special privilege.  I don't think I can get through a day without it."

Lupin chuckled.  "Some people should be so lucky."

She raised a dark eyebrow.  "None of you have to do my job."

'True enough.  I don't think either of us envies you that."  They had decided that Lupin should do most the talking to begin with to put her at ease.  It seemed to be working.

"I understand that you're not here to just exchange pleasantries, Mr. Lupin, Mr Malfoy."

_So the songbird has claws.  Wonderful._  Draco rolled his eyes.

Lupin appeared unruffled as always.  "We have a few questions for you regarding a case that we hope you will answer truthfully."

She nodded.  "Of course.  Please sit down.  Would you like anything?  Tea?  Brandy?"

"I'm afraid some of us don't have the luxury of being able to drink on the job, Chang."  Draco said, trying – and failing – to be civil.  _Hypocrite.  Weren't you just drinking on the job yesterday? _Something about all this felt wrong.

"No, thank you, Miss Chang."  Lupin glanced at Draco in warning as he spoke.  They sat down on the uncomfortable chairs.  The wood dug into his back.

"Miss Chang, has Mr. Potter ever intentionally covered up for your wrongdoing?"

Draco glared at Remus.  _That_ definitely wasn't part of the plan.  Lupin must have felt the strangeness too.  He was going straight for the jugular.  

Chang looked surprised for a few seconds.  Then she managed to pull herself together, to Draco's disappointment.

"Mr Lupin.  I thought it was your place to investigate the murders, not to go around making baseless accusations."  Her smile was carefully professional.  Draco refrained from wincing.  _Ouch.  That's rather harsh._

Lupin just smiled.  "You know me, Miss Chang.  I'd never accuse anyone of anything without proof."

"Is the proof legally valid, Mr Lupin?  Can it be sworn on before the Magical Court and accepted as truth?"  She glanced at Draco as she spoke.  The message was clear – his evidence would be nothing without Potter to back him up, given his status as a former Death Eater.  "As for 'wrongdoing', I think he might have covered up for me a couple of times for sneaking out at night to the kitchens for food, but that's about it."  Another sunny smile.

There was something in her words that seemed all too familiar.  Draco frowned.  _Sworn before the Court…_The words brought to mind, unbidden, an image of Potter grinning at him, his eyes dark.  Draco shivered.  He could almost see Potter's shadow now, in Chang's speech patterns, as if she was a puppet and Harry, the puppet master, controlling her every move.  

_And the plot thickens…_

Remus was staring at her with a look of mild curiosity.  If he noticed anything out of the ordinary, he wasn't showing it.  Draco bit his lip hard enough to bruise.  He had to get the information across without Chang noticing.  

"Did he just help cover up or did he do the sneaking _for_ you?"  

Remus glanced at him, startled.  Draco raised an eyebrow at Chang.  He saw Lupin's eyes widen for just a second before he went back to smiling politely at her.

Chang tilted her head, idly twirling a quill between her fingers.  "I have a feeling that we're not talking about midnight snacks at Hogwarts anymore."

Time to take a gamble.  "Do you have a message for us?"

She dropped the quill.  

Draco felt a flash of satisfaction when he heard the clear sound of the quill hitting the floor.  Switching to his most annoyingly superior voice, he drawled, "Well, Chang?  I'm disappointed.  I though Potter would have chosen a more intelligent messenger."

Diving behind her desk to retrieve the quill, she glared at him as she resurfaced.  "Really, Malfoy.  I thought Harry would have chosen a more worthy person to trust."

He smirked.  "You're one to talk about worthiness."  

She went a little white at that and started shuffling documents around her desk, trying to regain her composure.   At last, she looked up again.

"You don't have any recording charms on, do you?"

They both shook their heads.

"I'll trust your words on that.  Alright, listen carefully because I'm only going to say this once."

She grinned as they both automatically straightened in their chairs.

"He has three sentences for you.  The first is 'The Manor holds memories.'"

_It sure does.  Now we have to get permission to visit the damn place._

"The second one is 'Go home.'"

He had no idea what that one was about.  Lupin looked equally confused, for once.

_Why all these games?_

"And the last?"

_What are you hoping to accomplish?_

"'It may rain again tomorrow.'"

********

_Half An Hour Later_

_The Leaky Cauldron_

It was still working hours, so they really couldn't get horribly drunk, but Draco ordered the strongest thing they had anyway.  The pub was actually rather empty, for once, and Draco enjoyed the quiet.

"Well, that's one experience I'm not in a hurry to repeat.  In fact, I think it's right up there with getting the Dark Mark."  Lupin rolled his eyes at this, but Draco went on.

"Do we have to go to that godforsaken place?"

Lupin looked just as uncomfortable.  "I don't see what we have to accomplish by visiting the Manor, but I suppose we do have to keep up the appearance of investigating Harry's escape.  Besides, visiting Miss Chang seemed pointless in the beginning."

"It's still pointless.  I don't doubt that those were Potter's words, but he could be luring us into a trap for all we know."

Remus started saying something, clearly about to deny that Potter would ever do such a thing, so he cut in.

"Didn't the second phrase sound like a threat to you?  'Go home or something terrible will happen.'"

Lupin laughed.  "It's happened already, hasn't it?  I doubt things can get any worse."

Draco felt his eyes widen in mock horror.  "Now you've cursed us!  The rest of our days shall be spent in eternal horrible torment, with images of blood and death plaguing our nightmares." 

They both laughed at that.  It felt good to be out of the blasted hospital's shadow.  St Mungo's was bad enough, he didn't want to think about what the Manor would be like. 

He tried again.  "Do we have to go?"

Remus smiled, the expression suddenly taking years away from his face.  Draco felt like a student again, sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, having answered a question when no one else would.

"Yes, Draco, we do."  He glanced down at his watch.  "Although I think we have a meeting to go to first."

******** 

_Ministry Building, London._

Bode was a very strange man.  He wore well-tailored robes and was excellently groomed, but there was an air of eccentricity about him that made him impossible to gauge.  He had been Head of the Department of Mysteries since before the first Death Eater uprisings and had survived well through the different ministers through Dumbledore's favour.  No one ever knew which side he was on, and no one ever knew what he was thinking.  There were rumours in the Ministry, had been for years, that Fudge had tried to poison him multiple times and had almost been forced to drink the poison himself after one such attempt.

All this meant that Draco had a certain respect for the man, although he'd had few dealings with him.  His office, however, was something of a disappointment.  

It was Spartan in its tidiness, and there were no personal items.  This was to be expected.  The blinding shade of aqua, which decorated the walls, however, was not.

"It helps me relax."  That had been his explanation as he stood to welcome them.  To each his own, really, but the colour set Draco almost unbearably on edge.

_It's like he's trying to annoy people on purpose.  Hell, maybe he is._

Lupin seemed to be rather used to the whole thing, Bode being his direct superior.  Far from his almost playful attitude in the Leaky Cauldron, he seemed stiffly professional now, even slightly cold.

Lupin spoke first.  "I understand that you've found important information, Mr Bode."

The man's shrewd eyes swept over them.  "I have, but first I'd like to hear of you gentlemen's findings."

Draco exchanged a fleeting glance with Remus.  So Bode wanted to play ball, did he?  Chang had been clever and had had Potter as a guide, but Bode was a professional at this sort of thing.  They'd have to tread carefully.

Draco sighed internally.  Just when did this thing become a baiting game with the bloody Ministry?  Everything had escalated so quickly and now they were standing on slippery ground every single second.  

_How do I get myself into these things?_

He spoke cautiously.  After all, Bode had known Potter fairly well.

"We went to see Miss Chang, on your _request_," he couldn't stop the condescension that appeared in his voice at that sour point, nor did he want to.  "She couldn't offer us anything beyond a record of her last conversation with Mister Potter and some rather brief notes.  In other words, nothing we didn't know already."  White-faced lie, but what Bode didn't know couldn't hurt him – at least at this point.

_You've always been an excellent liar._

If Bode found this suspicious he didn't show it.  He only pushed a very small roll of parchment towards Draco.

"This is the only psychological report we have of him.  You might find it interesting."

Draco took the scroll cautiously.  He would comb it for useful information later.  However, now it was their turn to show and tell.  Remus spoke.

"We need more leads.  What happened to his wand?  Can't you pick up a magical signature from that?"

"His wand was snapped, I believe.  A wand like his is totally useless once they are broken.  No, he'll be using something else." 

Lupin laughed quietly.  "Didn't need it much in the old days, did he?"

Draco shot him a look.  Lupin subsided with another shake of his head.

He did have a good point.  By all accounts, he'd gone to face the Dark Lord in the final battle without a wand.  The Dark Lord had been killed, so logic follows that Potter could do _something_ without a wand.  

Most prisoners of Azkaban lose most of their magic before the first year was over.

Suddenly a thought struck Draco.  "Have you ruled out kidnap?"

Bode raised an eyebrow.  Draco stared at him, not willing to back down.  Finally, Bode spoke.

"It doesn't seem possible.  Firstly, what would be the kidnappers' motive?  I don't imagine that most people want an insane criminal anywhere near them."  Draco snorted.  "But I can see how someone could let him out, just to cause chaos."

Remus looked startled.  "To direct attention away from something else, Sir?"

The three of them exchanged glances.  A moment of clarity had been reached.

"It might very well have been."  Bode said, watching Draco's expression closely.

Draco's mind was racing.  An intriguing new possibility had appeared in the picture and knocked the assembled pieces apart.  The important questions now were who and what.  

Bode cleared his throat in the silence.

"Well, I've pulled the visiting records from Azkaban, and Potter hasn't had a visitor in more than five months.  I don't see how anyone could have been communicating with him otherwise."

Draco shivered.  "Unless the dementors…"

Remus cut in.  "No.  There's no way of controlling them.  Even Voldemort never really found a way."

They exchanged a look.  _If he did, we'd have all been well and truly fucked._

"If you gentleman have finished wallowing…?"  Bode's voice was unaffected and almost cold.  Draco glared.  Remus just looked at Bode, eyebrow raised.

"This is all very interesting, of course, and should be taken into consideration, but I did call this meeting today for a reason."

_Really?  Could have fooled me, you manipulative senile bastard._

Draco didn't know what it was about Bode that frayed his nerves.  Maybe his connections and similarity to Dumbledore.

_Of course.  That other manipulative senile bastard._

He waited for Bode to go on, not deigning to offer a question for him to answer.  To his side, Remus didn't look annoyed, just bored.  He had to admit that Lupin had the better poker face.  He was sure his annoyance and dislike was visible for anyone to read.

"Remus, I remember you protesting that Potter had no motive for murder."

Draco looked over in surprise.  Remus nodded heavily.

"Yes, sir, I did.  I still maintain my stance – this is madness.  It could have been anyone.  Why Harry?  What does he have to gain by it?  Him breaking out of prison at _about_ the same time does not count as evidence.  And even that we're still not sure of."  He chose his words carefully, but it was clear that this was an old argument by now and he was merely trying to be diplomatic.

Bode frowned.  He looked almost annoyed.  "Now, we're all intelligent wizards, we need not keep speaking in riddles."

Draco tried to arrange his face into his normal haughty expression to disguise his shock.  _How much does he know?_  Bode continued.  "How many times have I told you, Remus?  Fudge was just making a stab in the dark.  He needed someone to blame, that's all.  He knows much less than we do about anything."  _Most honest thing you've said all day, Bode._

Remus opened his mouth to interrupt.  Bode silenced him with a gesture.  "I know what you're going to say, if I were in your position I'd agree with you.  The fact is, Fudge is convinced that Harry is the murderer, and now he can pin a motive on him."

He was met with no protest.  Seeing that he had their full attention, Bode continued, watching Draco carefully.

"Baddock's brother was the archer who shot Ron Weasley."  _Well, there's your motive._  It didn't need to be said.  Remus's eyes had narrowed.  He looked thoughtful.

"He died in the purges, of course.  It wasn't a pretty case.  I remember."  He glanced at Remus.  "You know how it was, Harry's hatred of the Death Eaters was legendary.  He was well known for it."

Draco felt like he was walled off from the conversation.  There was something here that he didn't know, something that he wasn't getting.  He wasn't about to ask, but it was rather annoying.

"Do you think he did it?"  Remus asked.

Bode's smile was dark and full of irony.  "He certainly didn't have anything else to lose."

********************

_New Year's Eve, 2001_

_Death Eater Base_

It was rather funny, really, how things had gone to hell in a hand basket in less than ten minutes.  It was supposed to be a stealth attack with surprise on their side.  It became a disaster right from the start.  The Death Eaters knew that they were coming.  They certainly did not have numbers on their side.  Their one advantage gone, it quickly became a fighting retreat at best, and a mad dash at worst.  

It was quickly apparent that not only did the Death Eaters know when they were coming, but they also knew who and how many.  The mad dash turned into a slaughter.

Seamus hated watching his friends die.  He would give his life for any of them, and they knew it.  But as the curses started flying, he knew there was nothing he could do.

He couldn't understand what had gone wrong.  Only top Order personnel had known about the plan, there had been no leaks, the people involved in the attack were all trustworthy Order members (which made their loss even greater, but that was not his concern right now).  One thing he knew – he had questions, and he would get answers.

*******

To Be Continued

A/N: I decided to chop chapter four in half, so Ginny's appearance will have to wait for chapter five.  I know at least one of you who would be pleased by that. ^_^  As always, thanks for reading, and I would be very gratified if you would tell me what you think.  Constructive criticism is welcome as always.  I'm a writer who's still learning her trade, and I'd like to improve.

Next chapter:  Ginny has unpleasant flashbacks and gets a visitor.  Draco and Remus go to the Manor.  The One Big Happy Weasley Family dream is shattered, and it does indeed rain again.

If you'd like to get updates early and get notified when a chapter goes up, then come join me at Intelligent Mongrels, the joint Yahoo Group of Sajasma Lee and I.

Come join the insanity at groups.yahoo.com/group/intellimongrels/join/


	6. Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Where Angels Fear To Tread

Chapter Five: Blood is Thicker than Water

Disclaimers: I own nothing.  Certainly not Harry Potter, who belongs to J.K. Rowling and no one else. 

Author's notes:  Thanks to Sajasma and Blade Mistress for such fantastic and prompt beta work.  I know I make mistakes when I rush.  Thanks for pointing them out.  This story wouldn't be nearly as coherent without you.  Thanks also to Joshua Eide, Arafel, and especially Moonchild for reviewing.  Your words mean a lot to me.

********

_New Year's Day, 2002_

_Order of the Phoenix Headquarters_

Ginny watched as Harry paced about.  They were all seated in a loose circle, but now everyone pushed their chairs back subtly, not wanting to get in Harry's way while he was unhappy.

He was frowning, muttering under his breath as he paced, occasionally stopping to stare at his papers or look someone in the eye long enough for them to become uncomfortable.

Suddenly, he stopped and turned to Dean.  

"How's Remus doing?"

Dean smiled artlessly.  Harry blinked at him for a second; maybe he had forgotten that such an expression existed, surrounded as he was by worried faces.  Then he made an effort to smile back.  His gleaming bloodshot eyes made the smile look rather feral and several members of the circle flinched, but Dean looked gratified.

"He's out of danger.  Most of his wounds are healing well, but I'm afraid the good news ends there."

Harry nodded at him to continue.

"We can't save his right eye.  It will have to go."  Harry's eyes darkened and he bowed his head.  Ginny winced in anticipation of an outburst.  It didn't come.  He took a few deep breaths and spoke again.

"I see.  Do what you think best."  Sensing Dean's guilt, Harry clasped his shoulders and, looking into his eyes, spoke as earnestly as he knew how. "I don't blame you for anything, do you understand that?  It's not your fault."  

Dean looked grateful, but they all saw him relax as Harry let go.  "Thank you, Harry.  Can I give you some advice?  As a friend, not as your top Healer."

Harry looked surprised for a second, but then he nodded, the battle ongoing behind his eyes easing a little.

"Stop blaming yourself.  You couldn't have known."  The words were succinct.  They impacted immediately.  The silence was so painful that Ginny wanted to scream.  Dean spoke again, imploringly.  "I also ask that you listen to me as a friend, and not as the War Leader."

Harry finally sat down heavily, sighing.  "Thank you, Dean.  My feelings don't really matter in the grand scheme of things.  Right now, they should be the least of our worries."  He looked straight at Seamus.  Ginny winced again; the tension between the two had become unbearable in the last few weeks. 

Seamus lifted his head.  His eyes were flashing angrily, although the anger was not directed at Harry.  They looked at each other for a while, silently gauging each other's position on this particular crisis.  That done, Seamus spoke.

"What the hell happened?"

Ginny restrained herself from slapping him.  Could he have any less tact?  Ron could have put it better.  

Harry merely laughed in response.  "You tell me, Seamus, you were there."

Seamus frowned.  He was smiling less and less these days, just like everyone else.  Ginny didn't think she had ever heard him laugh in the last three months.  She missed the sound.

"I told you, it was a slaughter.  They knew we were coming.  They knew our strengths, our weaknesses, even that Remus was going to be there.  Why else were the archers there?"  He sat up straighter, one eyebrow rose in a perfect imitation of Harry.  "So, since you were the one who set up everything, you tell me what happened."

Harry spread his hands in front of him, smiling.  His eyes were widened in an expression of perfect innocence.  They were utterly cold.

"Ask me whatever you want."  He arched one brow.  Seamus had been a shoddy imitator after all, Ginny thought suddenly.  No one could really capture that mixture of apparent incorruptibility and horrifying viciousness.  "After all, I have nothing to hide."

_Any wrong move you make will be remembered.  If you kick me when I'm down, you will never get up again._  The words that he would never say were heard clearly.  Ginny wished Remus or Sirius were here.  They would never let things get this bad.  Even Snape would be helpful right now.  None of them were here, so those who were had to watch as things degenerated. 

Seamus seemed to recognise the warning for what it was and subsided a little.  Ginny didn't blame him for disagreeing with some of Harry's methods.  The ruthless man he had become frightened her.  However, that didn't stop her from being angry with Seamus for stirring up these episodes.  Harry was unstable at the best of times.  They needed him as the War Leader, not as a lunatic. 

She mentally chastised herself for the thought, but did not correct it.  She couldn't.

Seamus released the breath he had been holding and dropped his gaze.  Looking around the circle at all the worried and in some cases, frightened, faces he spoke to all of them.

"The names of those who knew about the attack would be a good start."

Harry tapped his fingers against the desk.  He was drawing patterns with the other hand and did not seem to be paying attention.  "That's a fairly long list.  Many highly placed Order members would become suspects."

"So?"

He glanced up again.  Ginny barely suppressed a gasp.  His pupils were constricted, so much so that there was only a tiny black dot being swallowed by killing curse green.  When he spoke again, his voice was frighteningly cheerful.

"Don't you understand, dear Seamus, that we can't afford that right now?  We've never been able to afford it.  Trust is such a fragile thing, and I will not risk suspicion on that scale."

He laughed again.  Ginny shivered.

"Who will you accuse?  Remus?  Sirius?"

Seamus shook his head.  Their positions were unquestionable, everyone knew that.

"Snape?  He _was_ vouched for by Dumbledore himself."

There was murmuring at this, but it soon quietened down.  Snape had long since proven his loyalty.

"One of the Weasleys?  They're our most faithful family."

To accuse the Weasleys was a very bad thing.  Everyone knew that, too.

He had got quieter as he went on. 

"Hermione?"

No one dared to speak.

His voice lowered to a mere whisper.

"Or me?  Is that your intention, Seamus?"

One could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

Finally, Seamus spoke.  "You know I'd never do that."  He said slowly, as if trying to get a particularly slow child – or a madman – to understand.

Ginny didn't know how Seamus could be so calm.  If Harry had been looking at her that way (he'd never really do that, of course) she'd have been trembling.  As it was, she could only see the slightest tremor in his hand as Seamus gripped the armrest of his chair.

She waited for Harry's reaction with bated breath.  What seemed like an eternity later, he broke into a smile and clapped his hands together.

"Well, then, what are we arguing about?  I promise you, Seamus, I will find the traitor."  He grinned at Seamus, who looked dazed at the sudden change of mood.

"Don't worry, just leave everything to me.  I'll have your answer within the week."

Seamus's eyes lit up.  Oh no, Ginny thought.  He's being clever again.  That never ends well.

She was right.

"What if you can't find the traitor within the week?"

Harry leaned back in his chair.

"Then you're free to accuse me as you like."  One last sunny smile, and then, "if you have any other problems, any one of you, just come see me any time.  I don't think there was anything else."  No one moved.  "No?  I won't keep you any longer, then."

Ginny collapsed back into her chair.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several others do the same.

*          *          *

Over the next days, she seldom saw him.  He was very busy, talking to all his spies, discussing in whispers with Hermione and spending time shut up in his room, refusing to see anyone.

It turned out that in addition to the disastrous mission, Wormtail their valuable prisoner had escaped.  Harry was furious, apparently.  She never saw him being angry.    

Many came forward with clues and accusations, but he refused to listen, not wanting to spread panic or feed rumour.

No one knew what was coming, and Hermione would of course never talk.  Somehow, the grapevine turned on Seamus.  He was named as the chief suspect.  Murmuring followed him wherever he went.

After the second day, Harry heard.  He made a speech, denouncing the rumours.  Dean smiled approvingly.  Even Seamus and his group looked grateful. 

On the third day, Harry summoned Ginny.  That wasn't quite the right term, and he would never be so arrogant, but that was what it came to be called.  She was sure that he would be unhappy if he knew.  She would get an owl with a polite message, asking if she could please come and see him as soon as possible, at her own convenience of course.  That was as close to ordering as he ever came.  It was very effective.  

He spoke to her gently once she was there.  There was an important assignment he wanted her to be a part of, so would she like to come with him?  He had been so very earnest, she'd agreed before even thinking to ask what the operation would be about.

Normally, asking would not yield any answers.  Even when she did ask, he could not tell her much.  If only he could tell her, he always said with heartfelt regret.  If only the War Council's demands of secrecy did not prevent it!  She had always smiled and nodded.  He needed her.  She would go.  Nothing else really mattered, or so she had thought.

Tonight, he told her everything.  Locations, participating members, even specific objectives.  When she asked him why he was being so forthcoming, he smiled at her.

"The War Council's security policy didn't stop the traitor from knowing, so what's the point?"

Ginny tried to offer a few words, to make him feel better, maybe, but Harry waved her off.

"It's all right.  Besides," his eyes seemed to see all her secrets.  She wanted to look away.  After an eternity, he continued, "I trust you, Ginny."

The words were like a glass of red wine; they went straight to her head.  She cursed herself for blushing.

He always treated her like this, as if she was a younger sibling, almost to the point of indulging her everyday whims.  It was a wonderful feeling, being loved, but somewhere in the back of her head she speculated.  Did Ron ask him to do this?  Or did he baby her out of a misplaced sense of guilt?

_A brother gained for a brother lost._  She didn't want him as a brother.  Had never wanted his affection as a sibling.  She had enough of those.  What she wanted, she knew now, she'd never have.  For a million reasons, but mainly because she could never understand him.  He never wanted to be understood.

He was nicer to her than he was to Cho.  This delighted Ginny, although she'd never admit it.  A Weasley girl shouldn't be petty.

There was a meeting the next morning for all involved with the assignment.  Bill was there, as well as Percy, who worked on co-ordination, and surprisingly, Sirius, throwing worried glances at Remus every five seconds.

Remus looked appalling.  He had never looked fully healthy, as long as she had known him, but now she barely recognised him.  He was painfully thin, most of his hair had gone grey, and there was a bandage over one eye.  The blood loss had been terrible, Dean had told her.  He was lucky to be alive.  Yet here he was, smiling at her as though nothing was wrong, nothing at all.

It was more or less a routine assignment.  The potions laboratory they were supposed to raid-and-destroy was small-scale, there really was no need for their top strategist to be present, not to mention the leader of their reconnaissance team.

_Ron had been their best strategist.  Ron should have been here._  She banished the thought with effort.  It was getting easier now.  It had been three years after all, and the rest of her family had grown even closer than before, if that was possible.  Maybe they were trying to fill the gap he had left behind.  Bill quit his job at Gringotts and came back as soon as he could from Egypt to join the Resistance.  Fred and George turned their shop into a very effective Order operation post.  They spent time coming up with all sorts of useful things for the Resistance and were formidable as a team.  Even Percy threw himself into the Order after the Ministry's War Council made one mistake too many.  Their family was the backbone of the Resistance in its earlier stages, and everyone knew it. 

Sirius was discussing something with Harry in a harsh whisper.  She couldn't hear what they were talking about, but the note of urgency in Sirius's voice was enough.

Everyone else pretended to be doing something else and not watching them argue.  It was a matter of courtesy, really.  Harry knew they were listening, and that was enough to make most of them try _not_ to.

Finally, Sirius invited Remus into the argument.  

"Remus, you tell him that this is madness.  I know he's angry that Wormtail escaped, but this is insane.  He won't listen to his recon team leader _or_ his godfather, maybe he'll listen to his strategist."  He sounded more worried than angry, but the harsh tone of voice was enough to make several people around the room flinch.

Remus opened his one remaining eye.  "It's not actually a bad decision.  Sorry, Sirius."  

Sirius seemed to deflate at that.  Harry smiled at Remus gratefully.  Remus frowned at him.  "Don't expect me to say that the next time you pull something reckless."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement.  "Thank you, Remus."

Sirius scowled at Remus and Harry alternatively for a second before he sighed, massaging his forehead with one hand.  

"Fine, fine.  It's not like I have any say when you two gang up on me."  He bit his lip, but Ginny could see that he was concealing a smile.  Harry grinned at him.

"Stop worrying."  There was a pause, and then suddenly Sirius was hugged him fiercely.  Behind them, Ginny saw Fred miming tears.  She mock glared at him.  He pulled a face at her in response.  At least that hadn't changed.

"You be careful, all right?"

Harry looked happy, for the first time in days.  "Of course."

It turned out that Harry had insisted on coming along on the assignment and could not be persuaded to change his mind.  Sirius was understandably upset.  No one knew who the spy was.  If word got out, Merlin knew what might happen.

It wasn't like Remus to make a decision like this.  It wasn't like Harry to be so stubborn about something like this.  They both knew that it wasn't the correct thing to do at this point.  So why was no one objecting?

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Bill.  He shook his head lightly, casting a glance at the empty seat where Seamus would usually be.  She understood.  They saw it as Harry's last stand, a last struggle to make his mark, and fuck the consequences.  Harry's time was fast running out.

_Sirius was right, this is insanity.  Why isn't he objecting more?  He knows how stupid this is._

The meeting ended without further incident and Ginny kept her thoughts to herself.  It wasn't her position to speak.

_I'll just have to trust him,_ she thought.  _Is that so difficult?_

*          *          *

She went to bed early.  Her dreams were dark and full of hidden dangers.  There was someone crying, but she couldn't find the source of the sound.

Someone shook her awake.  She woke up, shivering, feeling like she had been standing in a rainstorm for hours.  The cold sensations wouldn't leave.  Even so, she still had her wand jabbed into the intruder's side in five seconds flat.

Bill's voice calmed her.  "Ginny, are you okay?  You're cold."  A muttered 'lumos', and she was peering at his worried face.

"Merlin, you're pale.  Maybe you shouldn't be coming with us tonight."

She sat bolt upright.  "Where are we going?"

Bill shook his head.  "Never mind, you stay here and rest."  He turned to leave.  

"No, wait."  She didn't need time to think.  If he had to come and wake her up in the middle of the night, it must be important.  "I'm coming with you."

 *         *          *

Bill had protested, of course.  But she was an adult now, a member of the Order, and he couldn't stop her from doing what she wanted.  She thought that she had to do it.

They found Harry pacing in his tent.  He looked up, frowning, as they entered.

"Where is he?  If he's gone off somewhere by himself at this sort of time…" His muttering faded to a volume only he could hear, but Ginny could imagine the content of what he was saying.

She was just about to ask whom Harry meant when the doors opened and Seamus strode in, dragging his fingers through his hair to flatten it.  He still looked half-asleep.

Harry smiled at him as if he hadn't just been complaining.

"Ah, Seamus.  Good of you to come at such short notice."

Seamus blinked himself awake.  He looked alarmed for a second as he realised that he could have just walked into a trap by himself.  He moved for his wand.

Harry took a step forward.  He placed a hand on top of Seamus's right hand, which was reaching inside his robe.  

"Don't worry, I wouldn't ask you here just to ambush you."

Seamus snorted.  "Well, what do you want me for?"

Harry let go and stepped back.  There was a serious, almost grave look in his eyes.

"I'm asking for your help."

After they all arranged themselves into some sort of seating, Harry began to explain.

"There are no surveillance charms in this room.  All conversations in the meeting room are recorded, I can tell you that, so it's much more secure here.  I want you all to understand how important it is that this remains secret."  He waited until they all nodded, and then went on.

"You all know that I have a couple of highly placed spies in the Death Eaters."  _I?  What's that supposed to mean?_  Ginny bit her lip and didn't voice the thought out loud.Here he paused, probably expecting Seamus to make a remark about the wording, but he remained wisely silent.

"The traitor does not interact directing with Voldemort."  His eyes swept over them, cataloguing their reactions to the name, not missing a single detail.  When the silence had gone on long enough to make her squirm in her seat and still no one spoke, he went on.

"The Dark Lord sends a Death Eater to act as the middle person – an ambassador, I suppose.  This is how information – and probably promises of power – are exchanged."

"But isn't that more likely to cause a leak?"  Seamus asked.  He looked attentive and wide-awake now, no doubt trying to remember every word for future reference.

Harry nodded.  "Theoretically, yes.  That's why Voldemort sends a _loyal_ Death Eater.  That way the informant can do business on his own terms, and the Dark Lord doesn't have to compromise any information at all himself."  He flashed a small smirk, exulting in his small but decisive victory.  "Turns out that he's too trusting."

Someone started laughing, and she joined in, sharing the joke for as long as it would last.

Laughter was rare in these times, and much needed.  So she laughed, although something inside her was shivering.

Harry's grin of savage triumph was more than slightly disconcerting, but she forced herself to meet his laughing eyes.

"One of our spies has managed to obtain that role."

Seamus shook his head in wonder.  "Do you mean to say, all that preparation and arguing for the Potions lab assignment was just to give the traitor something to report?"

Bill shrugged and answered for Harry.  "You can't say it wasn't effective.  You heard about it, and you weren't on the mission, were you?"

Seamus flushed at that.  Ginny struggled to not feel bitter that Harry had lied to her.  It wasn't easy.

_So what, you silly girl?  It was for the sake of the Order, so get over it!_  A voice inside her head shouted.  She shook herself mentally and turned her focus back on Seamus. 

He spoke again, quickly, as if he was embarrassed.  "So we get to the meeting place before they do, hide out, and catch the bastard."

"Basically, yes."  

Seamus looked thoughtful.  "I only have one issue with that plan, Harry.  We'd eliminate the traitor, but wouldn't your spy be forfeit after this?"

In the gigantic game of chess that was the war, sometimes there had to be sacrifices.  Pieces had to be thrown away for the good of the bigger picture.  She remembered Ron telling her that.  Harry was never really that good at chess.  She had always trounced him soundly, back at Hogwarts. He was too careful with his pawns' lives, always tried to do everything with one piece.  

After he came back from his self-imposed exile, they played again, just the once.  He had been ruthless, playing with an almost frightening intensity.  Like he wasn't really trying to defeat her.  Like she was only the mask for a greater enemy, one he had to beat.  

She won, by a hair's breath.  He told her that she had Ron's skill with chess, and went off to find Remus.  Later, she sat over the board, going over the game.  It wasn't until three hours later that she'd realised – he could have won.  If he hadn't sent his knight to its death, he would have won.  He must have known this.  

The next day, he appeared to have forgotten all about the game played for a purpose and his forfeit knight.  She didn't forget.

She didn't forget his smile when he had announced 'check', nor the almost bored amusement in his eyes when she'd whispered 'checkmate'.

She shook her head out of her own nightmare like memories and listened to Harry's laughter.  Waited for him to stop and unravel his latest merciless scheme on the way to total victory.

"I know some people are hoping that it will happen like that.  If the two cancel each other out then they could reap the benefits.  That's not how it's going to happen.  After we capture the traitor, my spy will go back to Voldemort and tell him the tragic story – that the informant had been a spy and set a trap to kill the loyal Death Eater, and how the loyal Death Eater barely got away.  The informant, of course, has shown his true colours and has come back to the light side."

Harry bridged his hands in front of him, long fingers laced together.  His smile was one of pure joy, pleasure in his ability to out-manoeuvre his enemy.  She hadn't seen him this cheerful in a long time, she realised.  When was the last time?  Was it when he had taken Malfoy Manor, or when he had captured Wormtail?  It was not a pleasant thought. 

"And then, the Death Eaters will hunt down and kill who they now believe to be the traitor."  She heard herself say, in a half-awed, half-horrified whisper.  It was simple, yet brilliant and so cruelly ironic.  Ron couldn't have done it better.  Ron wouldn't have – he was rather soft-hearted in the end, really.  He wouldn't have left the traitor to such a fate.  

Ron always protected his pieces as well as he could.

Bill chuckled.  "You thought up this last bit, didn't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"  Harry asked, his head tilted in blank curiosity.

"I can see Remus's hand in the other parts, but this little twist sounds just like you."

No, Ginny thought.  It wouldn't have, three years ago.  Three years ago, he would never have thought of such a thing.  He's changed so much.  She remembered that Bill didn't know Harry very well when he was still at Hogwarts. 

When he was still Harry?

She was aghast at the thought, so much so that she could not pay much attention to the rest of the briefing.  She missed Harry's inquiring look to Seamus and Seamus's nod.

It would be the last time they co-operated on anything in a while.

*          *          *

The next few hours she remembered as nothing more than blurs.  Shock, confusion, pain, blood, everything piled up and overwhelming.  Fate was unkind to her.  She thought that she'd never be alive again.

The first section went off without a hitch.  The spy had supplied very detailed instructions to the meeting place.  It turned out to be an old warehouse, abandoned and broken down.

_How cliché,_ she thought.   The interior did nothing to change her mind.  It was all rather bleak and depressing.  They all hid as well as they could, most of them putting empty metal containers to good use.  Harry disappeared under his Invisibility Cloak.

Smiling at the memories this brought back, she settled down to wait.  Bill had set anti-apparition wards on the warehouse to be activated as soon as both parties appeared.  Neither would be Apparating in, as it would draw attention.  Apparition was detectable by both sides and therefore way too risky.

They didn't have to wait long.  

Ginny heard him before she saw him.  He had been trying to walk quietly, but of course his boisterous nature wouldn't allow it.  He was never any good at sneak attacks.

Even in the thin slivers of moonlight that shone through the boarded up windows, the Weasley red hair was easily visible.  All the Weasleys had refused to dye their hair to be less noticeable.  It was a proud symbol of resistance against the Dark, and could not be snuffed out.

The shock sent a shiver through her body.  She clutched at a nearby box to keep herself upright and peeked out as far as she dared.

He turned his head at the noise, and she saw him.

For a second, she couldn't recognise him.  Even her mother had trouble telling the twins apart at times, and they didn't make it any easier.  Everyone assumed that they liked confusing people.

She shook her head.  The moonlight fell on his face, making her stifle a gasp.

George.  There were subtle differences between the twins, if one looked hard enough.  Most people didn't, not really.  He had once told her that.  Harry was one of the only non-Weasleys who could tell them apart.  Ginny remembered, like a flash, the delight evident on George's face when Harry called him by name for the first time. 

He had asked Harry: How did you tell us apart?

And Harry, sweet, charming, Harry, had smiled up at him.  

'It's no big deal.  You're very different.'

George had frowned.  'Most people don't see it.'

'Most people don't look hard enough,' had been Harry's enigmatic reply.

Yanking herself back from the past, she mentally chastened herself.  Now was no time to be lost in the past.  _Live in the present._  George had taught her that.

She couldn't understand a thing.  Drowning in the blank static of her mind, her thoughts grasped onto one anchor and held to it like a drowning man.

_Wait – he must be Harry's spy!  Of course, how silly of me.  How silly of me to ever doubt.  I must apologise to him.  Yes, I should._  She continued in this vein for some time before her rational side caught up with her. 

If George was the spy, why hasn't he made any sign that he knew they were there?  Why did he act surprised when she made a sound?  More than anything else, the look on his face scared her.  It was one she had never seen before, a terrible sort of triumph.  Sure, she had seen him triumphant when a prank went off successfully or when a new toy of theirs worked wonders in combat, but not like this.  

Not like he had nothing to lose and the whole world at his feet.  Not like a man devoted to his own justice and no one else's.  Not like someone with limitless aptitude and strength – and the ruthlessness to use it for power. 

_To hunt the dark, we must become it.  Don't fall too far, though.  There is no salvation._

Harry's voice echoed through her mind, the words which had confused her when he had spoken them suddenly crystal clear.  

_Oh, my brother.  My poor, poor brother._

It was a terrible thing, terrible yet beautiful, to be swallowed by darkness.  She knew the feeling, dreamed it every night, craved and hated it and embraced it in her darkest nightmares.

Another Weasley had fallen.  

_My poor brother._

She wanted to step out of hiding, confront him, shake him, make him alive and laughing and _hers_ again.  The urge was so strong that she almost did, until a hand on her arm made her freeze.

She looked around.  Nothing.  Harry, then.  She hadn't heard him move.  She nodded her head to show that she understood.  It was difficult – all her limbs were heavy as lead.  He removed his hand.  There was a pause, and then it came to rest on her shoulder.  She was grateful for the reassurance.  

George sat down on the floor, his face raised towards the ceiling, where the stars would be, beyond the rusty roof.  He was still, an almost wistful look on his face.

They waited.

Finally, he spoke.  "She sure is tardy.  That's half an hour I've wasted.  Doesn't that woman understand that I risk being exposed with every passing second?  Harry's sharp, he'll notice something sooner or later."  A dark smile came on to his face, transforming it.  "I doubt he'll be noticing much after this assignment, though.  Pity, that.  He knows more than the average person gives him credit for."  There was a shadow of regret on his face, fleeting but apparent.  It was gone quickly, fast replaced by irritation.    

He sighed.  "What am I doing, talking to myself.  It's not like Fred's here with me."  He sounded almost wistful.  For just a second, sadness flashed in his eyes, followed quickly by anger.

"Don't move."  Ginny flinched as Bill's voice rang out through the warehouse.  He stepped out of his hiding place.  Harry's grip on her shoulder was almost painful now.  She realised that her hands were clenched into tight fists, and the hard wood of her wand was digging into the flesh of her palm.

_Relax,_ she told herself.  _Don't act like such a little girl._  But she was a just a little girl in that moment, watching a person she loved, worshiped even, fall from his altar.  She was lost, and Harry's hand on her should was the only thing keeping her in place.  Despair overwhelmed her.

George froze.  "Bill?"

Bill glanced around the warehouse.  He didn't meet her eyes.

"Harry, Seamus, come on.  There's no point in hiding any further.  He's confessed."  His voice was hard.  Ginny was afraid of looking at him.  She didn't want to see the ruthless look that would be on his face.  The one that said 'Victory for the Light at any cost.'  

_Even if your family is torn apart?  Even if brothers become enemies?_

Harry took his hand away from her shoulder.  She moved to rise with him, but he patted her arm.  She recognised the silent order.

_Stay put._

They surrounded George with their wands pointed at his heart.  Seamus looked shell-shocked.  Harry had his usual smile on his face, but she could see that he was just as surprised as the rest of them.  He just chose not to show it.  She still couldn't look at Bill.

It was all so terribly _funny._  All of this, all of it was the greatest, most frightening cosmic joke ever.  Only Fred and George could come up with something like this.  It was just like them to joke about such serious things.  Yes, it had to be a joke.  It just had to be.

Nothing else was acceptable.

Finally, Harry spoke.  "Why, George?"  The betrayal and hurt was evident in his voice.  Ginny spared a moment to be thankful that Fred wasn't here.  

_Oh fuck.  Fred.  Oh no, what are we going to tell him?_

George laughed.  "What do you mean, why?  Just because I'm a Weasley and a Gryffindor, I'd never betray the Order?  What kind of logic is that?"

Harry laughed.  The sound echoed throughout the warehouse, sounding eerie and rather sinister.  Even George looked surprised.

"Better question, George.  What did they promise you?"  Harry asked after he had calmed down.  Ginny suppressed the urge to ask him what was so funny.  She wasn't sure that she wanted to know.

She had never wanted to see the dreamy smile on George's face as he answered.

"They promised me the world, Harry.  Power, position, you know the drill."

Harry shook his head.  "I don't believe you.  Come on, I expect better than a textbook answer from you."

"You tell me why you fight for the Order first."  George crossed his arms, waiting.

"Honestly?  To kill Voldemort."  The stark simplicity of the statement seemed to shock even George.

"That sounds like a reason, all right.  If you'd said something like 'for the good of the Wizarding World'-"

"You'd have laughed at me, I know."  They shared a smirk.

George turned his full attention on Harry, completely ignoring Bill and Seamus.  "Ever wanted to be just yourself, Harry?"  

Harry snorted.  "Every single fucking day."

"See, I knew you'd understand.  You've got that scar and that title.  And me?" He smiled self-depreciatingly.  "I want to be myself.  Not just part of something else.  It's always Fred-and-George.  Never just one of us.  No one ever thought that maybe we'd like to be individuals.  Not even our family."

Harry tilted his head.  "Bill-"

"Thank you, Harry."  Bill seemed to be staring through George.  "This has come down to a family matter.  As dad isn't here, I'll resolve it on his behalf." 

His eyes were dispassionate.  Ginny knew then.  There was nothing she could do.  

Harry glanced around the warehouse, his eyes stopping on her hiding place for a second.  He wanted her to get out of here.  She couldn't move.

"Bill, I'm only going to ask once.  Are you sure about this?"

Bill nodded.

"Good luck."

Harry gestured to Seamus.  They both turned to go, leaving Bill still covering George with his wand.  Seamus gestured at her to run.  She took one last look at her brothers, George sitting on the floor and Bill standing over him as if to impose some terrible judgement.  The image fixed itself into her mind forever.

As she made her way out, she saw George standing up, still smiling at his oldest brother.

_This is the way it will end._

"Come on, Ginny.  I don't think either of them wants you to see this."  Seamus said.

In desperation, she turned to Harry.  "Why – why didn't you stop them?"

Harry gave her a soft, almost pitying look.  "Would you have preferred it if I left George for the Death Eaters?  This is a far kinder fate for him.  My original plan was for a traitor, not for someone I consider a brother."

"No!"  Tears were bit back angrily, nails dug into skin, and none of it mattered.  Blood, tears, sacrifice.  None of it mattered if she kept losing.  

Family was all she had left.  The only thing she trusted, the only thing - and nothing else could destroy it.

_I can't – I can't do this._

*          *          *

_The Fourth Day, 2008_

_The Golden Snitch (co-owned by Miss G. Weasley and Mr. S. Finnigan)_

Harry leaned forward in his seat, smiling, dark lashes casting shadows on pale cheeks as his eyes closed.  

Ginny remembered to start breathing again.  The room was silent as she gathered her scattered wits and tried to find anger, rage, anything.  The effort spent was wasted as his eyelids fluttered open and she was sent reeling from the flood of memories.__

_The perfect hero you are looking for, the one you are in love with – he doesn't exist, Ginny._

She shook herself violently and tried to glare up at him.  Failed miserably and settled for glaring at the table instead.  How dare he come waltzing back into their lives after all these years? He seemed to still be living on the high of the victory of the war, caught perpetually in that strange state of amusement and bitterness.  Harry seemed more like Him than ever, the inflections of his voice, the confident stance of his body, even the subversive aura.

"Did you miss me?" He chuckled, green eyes glittering.  She didn't know what to say.  The memories were still taking their toll.__

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to find him studying her, his eyes blank and reflective with a sort of cruel curiosity.  For a moment, she was transported back to her moment of doubt upon opening the door.  Was it really Harry?  She found that she did not know.  So she concentrated on her anger and swatted away the lingering scent of fear and doubt.

"Where have you been all these years?" 

Unexpectedly, his smile faltered for an instant.  "Don't you read the newspapers at all, Ginny?"

Someone laughed.  The sound was cold and brittle.  She was surprised to discover it was coming from her.  "I try not to."

"Now you understand."

She shook her head.  "You said it yourself, I've never understood anything.  What's there to understand?"  There was a bitter taste in her mouth.

"We all get tired of lies by the end.  Hearing them, seeing them everyday, playing along with a smile on your face, it's designed to drive you mad."

A few years ago, these words would have made no sense to her.  Now they seemed like the perfect truth.

"Truly."

He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed in thought.  "Damn.  I gave my copy of the Prophet to D – _someone_ a few years ago.  It's probably even a collector's item now.  There weren't many copies issued."

Harry laughed, an oddly joyful sound.  It seemed much lighter than his laughter during the war, which was few and far between and never because he was happy.

"Here's the ironic thing, though – they couldn't not print it.  They'd gone to the trouble of buying exclusive rights, after all.  But the Ministry really didn't want someone to kick up a fuss, so they needed a compromise.  Some genius came up with the idea that they'd just print fewer copies.  Then they'd be able to control the circulation, right?  I think Rita was so mad about not getting her proper moment in the spotlight that she left the paper.  Interesting how that - "

Ginny sighed.  "Harry."

 "Yes?"

"Stop rambling.  You sound like Dumbledore, and not in a good way."

Chuckling, and then a raised eyebrow.  "What good way?"  

"Right, I remember.  There is no good way."  They shared a smile.

He shook his head.  "Seamus has infected you with his sense of humour.  I fear for our souls." 

"Just stop avoiding the topic.  What's this I'm supposed to know?"

Harry took a deep breath.  "That Harry Potter was convicted guilty without trial to a life sentence in Azkaban for 'illegal use of magic'.  That he was declared criminally insane two weeks after his incarceration.  That he should not be standing here now, talking to you about Dumbledore's supposed sanity."

Her mind blanked out.  Inside, one part of her was running around screaming denial, while the other part tried to think rationally.  

He must be lying.  He had to be.  If he were telling the truth, wouldn't someone have told her by now? Surely no one would try and keep that from her.

_Ah, but you didn't want to hear anything about him back then, remember?  You were too busy being afraid of hearing of his happiness; too busy being spiteful and angry, _the nasty little voice inside her head that never seemed to shut up replied.

*********

_September 2002_

She ran.  Her legs felt like they were on fire, and she longed to Apparate, but she kept running.  Ginny's eyes lit up as she caught sight of the safe house.  Nearly there, she told herself.

Skidding to a stop, her head snapped up at the now familiar sound of soft laughter.

"What's the hurry, Ginny?" The voice was faint and seemed to come from all around her.  She fought down her annoyance and unease at this often-used trick of his, usually practised on those whose fate was about to promptly turn miserable and hoped hard that this wasn't her day.  Not now.

"Don't do that.  If His cronies detect magic, they'll come storming and we can't afford to lose another safe house." She cringed as the words came out of her mouth.  She'd been spending way too much time around Hermione.

"And what," He stepped out of the shadows cast by the buildings, hands in pockets, "makes you think I'm using magic?"  He was pale, paler than a ghost, the veils showing clearly on his bare arms.  Despite this, he did not look fragile.  Instead, he looked to be drunk on some sort of raw energy, like a wild animal exalting in its hunt for prey.

"Look at yourself, Harry! Look at what you've become!"  She all but shouted the words, lost in a world of desperation and fear.  Ginny had hoped…but now it looked like there was no salvation to be found for him.

He was blindingly fast when he wanted to be.  She had forgotten.  Within seconds, he was at her side, dragging her into the alleyway nearby with a vice-like grip on her arm.  She struggled, yelled and became instantly contrite at the horrible shattered look of betrayal in his eyes.  How could she have thought such a thing?  This was Harry, for Merlin's sake!  He would never mean her harm.  Would he?

She had an apology ready but her heart froze in her throat at his next words.  "And what do you think that is, Ginny?  Someone not fit to represent the Light? Someone whose leadership no one should follow? Someone to be locked up and looked after? _Someone you can betray without batting an eyelid?_"

She struggled to get words out.  They became stuck in her throat, wedged like sharp pieces of fish bone.  

"I…I…Harry, you have to believe me! I never…I never!" She gasped, between heaving sobs.  When there was no reply, she looked up.  His eyes were blank.  It was as if sharp stones had shattered the wall of glass and a wall of steel had been erected right behind it.

She stopped speaking, feeling more rotten than ever.  Just as she thought that there was no way she could feel any worse, he spoke again, his voice cold and brittle.

"Listen carefully.  This is what you accomplished tonight.  Gabrielle Delacour called me a madman, disobeyed me and got herself killed.  The whole recon team walked off.  The War Committee is meeting to vote on pulling their support from the Order.  I've been replaced as Leader as a result of a coup.  Are you happy now?"  

She shook her head violently, tears spilling down the front of her shirt, trying to deny it all.  She couldn't have done all that.  All she did was tell Dennis how worried she was about Harry's behaviour.  And then Seamus had set up a meeting with the Ministry for her to talk about her concerns, so she couldn't refuse, could she?  She didn't really tell them anything…

He seemed to see the path her thoughts were taking, because he started speaking again, more gently than before.  "This is something you have to learn to face in war.  Everything you do may have consequences.  You have to live with them.  I thought you understood that, Ginny."

She looked up again, her eyes hopeful, waiting for a reprimand, then forgiveness.  This was how it usually went, after all.  He seemed to be waiting for her to speak the right words, the words that would make this better.  She struggled to find them.

Ginny took a deep breath.  _Here goes nothing._ "I'm sorry, Harry, but we were all so worried about you, and you were acting so strangely…" Her words cut off as he rammed a fist into the wall behind her, staring down at her as if he was looking at an alien creature he didn't recognise.

"You don't understand…" He whispered to the night air, shaking his head lightly.  "You can't understand…" He sighed deeply, and then looked straight at her again.  "You don't know _anything_, do you?" 

Emboldened and angered by his statement, she spoke up again.  "What don't I understand?  I don't know anything because nobody bloody well tells me anything!"  Ginny winced as soon as the words left her mouth.  How childish could she sound?  It was too late to take anything back, though. 

He chuckled darkly, sounding amused.  "Why do you _think_ no one tells you anything?  All right, I'll tell you something.  We're close to winning the war.  The Death Eater factions are getting smaller everyday and I think I've located Voldemort.  I proposed an attack on his headquarters to the Order yesterday.  You have horrible timing, Ginny."  Another smothered chuckle.  "Or should I say, great timing.  Seamus would thank you.  If it weren't for you, he would have never succeeded.  He's never liked the way I do things."

Ginny hated it when he talked like that, as if he understood the meaning of the universe and she couldn't possibly comprehend it.  She was confused and angry.  "Of course he doesn't!  You kill and do horrible things to people!  We shouldn't be like that!"  Her cheeks were flushed as she continued, feeling alive for the first time in weeks.  "And you…you should never have been like that either!"

There was silence for a time.  In the quiet of the night, birds of prey screamed their intent to the sky.  Then Harry pinned her with his cold and unrelenting gaze.  It was similar to the one he used on prisoners who were about to be executed.  The evening was warm, but Ginny shivered.

Then he spoke, so quietly that to any passing stranger, he would have seemed like a lover whispering endearments into his sweetheart's ear.  His words were anything but.  

"If you think, even for an instant, that you can win this war without killing or hurting anyone who doesn't deserve it, and come out with your hands clean, you have never truly fought or been in command of a battle.  You are deluded if you think that Voldemort will observe honour in warfare just because you do.  Seamus will find himself buried in red tape if he tries to play by the rules.  I'd like to see your lot try it."  

He took a deep breath, and Ginny had a flash of insight.  Cut him off now and say the right words, or things will never be right between them again.  But she couldn't speak.  She could only listen as he judged and condemned.

"For my whole life, people have tried to change me, break me, make me their puppet.  They have given me a mould to step into, and I have had no other choice.  I should be good, merciful and brave, just because they think so.  Well, I'm not.  I'm resentful and ruthless and a coward.  This is my revenge and my war and I'll be damned if I let anyone else interfere with it.  I'm not doing this for the world, Gin.  Why should I?  It hates me.  So remember that.  I choose to try and save the world now.  I don't have an obligation to it.  Remember that when I choose differently."        

*          *          *

_Present Day_

He didn't even have a chance to choose.  The Ministry chose for him  - and they chose a life sentence in Azkaban.  

_Life sentence.  Merlin, Harry._

"I'm glad you got yourself out of there, Harry."  She was pleasantly surprised by the warmth in her own voice.  It was nice to see that she was still capable of it.

"So am I, Ginny.  So am I."  He ran a hand through his dark hair, still messy as ever.  "As you've probably already guessed, I'm not supposed to be here.  I don't want to get you in trouble, so I won't be long."

She recognised the shift to a more brisk, business-like tone.  "What do you need from me?  I'll do what I can."

He looked hesitant and almost unsure, just for a second.  "More importantly, how are…" Small, cautious pause, and he went on. "Mum and dad?"

He had been calling the elder Weasleys by that since before the war, but the events of New Year's Day had done nothing to improve his relationships with the rest of the Weasley siblings.  Harry knew that too well.

"Dad's still getting treated in St. Mungo's.  The healers say that he won't recover if he doesn't want to.  He keeps calling Bill and George's name, but he won't wake."  She was pleased that she managed to say it all without stumbling.  The detached monotone helped a little, even if each word took so much out of her.  She continued on in the same way, noting Harry's small flinch.  "Mum hasn't changed much.  She's still fussy, but she can't do most of the house chores anymore."

She paused to sigh, but seeing the concern on Harry's face, she went on hastily.  "Fred's looking after her and Percy.  He's turned a bit funny, too.  Paranoid as fuck.  Last time I went to visit he nearly hexed my head off."

Harry nodded.  She thought that she saw a flash of the same unpleasant memories that haunted her in his face before he buried them.  "How's Percy?"

"Better, but he's not going to get his eyesight back.  It's too bad that bastard Zabini got to him in the Malfoy Manor battle.  He could still be working for the Ministry if he wasn't…well, you know."

"Yes, I know."  He spoke to the table.

_Bravo, Ginny.  Make him feel worse.  _She tried to change the topic.  "I think he's better off out of that snake pit, actually."

He laughed, still not raising his head.  "Calling that place a snake pit is an insult to all snakes."

She reached out cautiously, placing her hand on his elbow.  "You know it's not your fault that it turned out that way.  You couldn't have done anything."  

He raised his head.  For a moment, she was afraid that he would be in tears.  She needn't have worried.  His eyes were clear and he was smiling, even if it was tinged with sadness.

"I know, Ginny.  I know.  It doesn't matter what really happened.  As long as they blame me, it will be my fault."  He shook his head.  "But I really shouldn't be imposing on your time."

She opened her mouth to protest that it was no trouble at all, but his sudden graveness stopped her.  

"The box I gave you before the Hunters were disbanded – do you still have it?"  

_I need you to keep this safe for me, Ginny.  _

_What is it?_

_The three things that connected Him and me.  I may need it again in the future.  Can you keep it for me?  _

*          *          *

_Around the same time_

_Outside Malfoy Manor_

Although the Ministry had sold almost all of the Malfoy Estate, they had never been able to sell off the Manor itself.  Maybe it was because the Manor was a complete wreck, torn apart by the battle that had taken place there.  Maybe it was the forbidding atmosphere and dozens of wards and hexes that were still intact.  Either way, the Manor was empty.  It had been the Malfoy residence for hundreds of years and would admit no other.

_A fat lot of good that Malfoy blood did us during the war._  Draco thought darkly, picking his way through the overgrown grass.  

Luckily, the wards still recognised him and let him though without protest.  They were going by one of the back ways.  Even though the manor was supposedly unoccupied, it would do them no good to attract any notice. 

He turned, scowling, to face Lupin, who was staring with plain fascination at a small plant with red flowers.

"Don't touch that," Draco cautioned, "I think that's one of the magic-draining plants."

Remus laughed, even while carefully sidestepping it.  "One of your ancestors must have been amazingly paranoid."

Draco snorted.  "You have no idea."  Suddenly, Remus's smile froze. 

"Draco, turn around."  One of the most important survival rules in combat – don't ask questions.  It had been drilled into his mind, one reason he now turned as fast as he could.

And came face to face with an ugly giant spider.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming and ran like hell.

*          *          *

_Ten Minutes Later_

_The Hanged Sphinx_

Draco took a sip of his third drink.  Apparating always took it out of him.  Being torn apart and put back together again was never going to be a pleasant sensation.  "What was the point of that?  Besides angry Acromantulas attempting to murder us, that is."

"I don't know, I think it was quite amusing, actually."  Remus said over his Butterbeer.  

Draco glared.  "If you say that again, I swear I will feed you to one of them."

Remus laughed.  Draco joined in, reluctantly.  He did not like nasty surprises.

"Seriously, though, I do think we gained something from that rather dangerous exercise."  Remus said.  He had that look on his face that Draco took to mean that he was doing a lot of thinking.

"What's that?"

"You didn't know about this trap, correct?"

Draco nodded.  He could see where this was going.  "You mean…"

"The Manor is no longer uninhabited.  Someone's cleaned it up and moved in.  Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

*          *          *

To Be Continued

Author's Notes:  This chapter was written to Linkin Park's Meteora, Evanescence's Fallen, a lot of Alanis Morissette, and t.A.T.u's 200 km/h In the Wrong Lane.  ^_^ I had to get it finished before April the 6th, as I leave for China on that day.  I'll be gone for a month, but don't worry – I will be writing during that time and will hopefully return from China with Chapter 6.

Apologises to those of you who want more present day case-related stuff.  I promise there will be much more of that next chapter, as the focus returns to the present and to Draco and Remus.  However, it will be shorter, because this one was so long and because I have not as many scenes planned.

Next Chapter: The Eternal Game.  Dreams, reality, bad weather.  Things don't get much better for Draco.

If you'd like to get updates early and get notified when a chapter goes up, then come join me at Intelligent Mongrels, the joint Yahoo Group of Sajasma Lee and I.

Come join the insanity at groups.yahoo.com/group/intellimongrels/join/


	7. Truth In Deception

Where Angels Fear To Tread  
  
Chapter six: Truth in Deception  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. So not mine.  
  
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my two wonderful beta readers, Sajasma Lee and Blade Mistress. They both put up with me in various ways when other people would have run out of patience a long time ago. That goes for the readers too, those who have stuck around. Hopefully your patience will be rewarded. Thanks to DistressedMoonchild, MIforever, and Kerry Leprechaun for leaving comments. I love any type of review, but give me constructive criticism and I'll love you forever. ^_^  
  
* * *  
  
"Why won't you just die?"  
  
Draco dreamed.  
  
* * *  
  
"Why?"  
  
He glanced up from his drink to see Potter leaning against a wall, that perpetually unaffected expression making him look cold and judgemental.  
  
Damnable Gryffindor. What does he know? Draco schooled his face into a mask and glared.  
  
"Why let someone else." Potter paused, as if searching for the right word. "Own you like that?"  
  
Of course Potter would never understand, he had no concept of authority and no one he had to please. But that wasn't right, was it? No, wait.  
  
"You say that like you don't grovel at Dumbledore's feet." He raised an eyebrow, the contemptuous expression perfected throughout the years.  
  
The other boy smiled, then bit his lip and tried to turn it into a frown. The words had amused him somehow, but he did not want to show it. It annoyed Draco when he did not know the source of Potter's amusement. He did not like the possibility that it might be himself.  
  
"Why do you follow that Mudblood-lover, then?" Bitterness and hate, that he could do well enough.  
  
Potter stood up carefully, calm eyes looking straight at him.  
  
"Other than the obvious?"  
  
Draco nodded, and was infuriated to find that Potter had almost caught up to him in height. He wasn't awkward, though - that period had passed infuriatingly quickly for Potter, as with everything else. He'd always be quick and lethal.  
  
Sometimes, he was even good with words, even though he was not graceful or skilled with them. He was just lucky.  
  
"I don't appreciate torture when I make a mistake. Nor do I like kissing the hem of my superior's robes. I don't like to think that you might."  
  
Draco winced - not at the words, oh Merlin no, he'd said the same in his head so many times that it had lost meaning - but -  
  
I don't like to think that you might.  
  
Words delivered in a monotone, clipped, precise. So blank and expressionless that he might have been talking about the weather, about nothing that mattered.  
  
Words are powerful. Magic is, after all, nothing more than words and thought and will.  
  
"What made you think that I would care about what you thought?" Never mind that even he could see the hypocritical nature of his retort - hadn't he asked Potter the question?  
  
Harry didn't seem to hear him, absorbed as he was in twirling his wand around his fingers.  
  
Draco polished off his drink in frustration. One-sided conversations with Potter were not, and had never been one of his hobbies. It was just his luck that when he had come up here to be alone, Potter had the nerve to show up, and he couldn't exactly curse the bastard, could he?  
  
"You like the winning side, Malfoy? All Slytherins do, I think." A deliberate pause, as he took a step forward. "Although I've also been told that Slytherins don't like to be led, so I guess hearsay isn't that believable." Another step. He was right in front of Draco now.  
  
"Or is it?"  
  
Quick, nimble fingers closed around his wrist, one hand causally brushing back the sleeve of his robe. The Dark Mark was clearly visible, the demonic skull grinning repulsively up at him. Draco winced, waiting for a typically Gryffindor reaction. Potter only sighed softly, the sound curiously like a snake's hiss.  
  
"Ah. Careless, aren't we?" That glacial calm was becoming difficult to shatter. Draco longed to get through to him, stir up something, anything within Potter's dead eyes and dead voice and dead smile. And to think, he used to be so easy to rile up.  
  
He saw himself straighten haughtily, shrugging off Potter's hands and saying something scathing. Something clever, perhaps. Tailor designed to hurt and prove his own superiority.  
  
All his clever, hurtful words were scattered to the wind when he glanced down and found the tip of Potter's wand barely half an inch from his throat.  
  
In retrospect, it was probably the look in his eyes. Not alive, no, never that, never after all that had happened, but filled with a mania that would remain beyond the grave. He saw that look in his own eyes sometimes, when he looked in the mirror. It hurt somewhat to think that he was not the object of Potter's obsessive hatred.  
  
He spoke carefully, spitting each word out as if he was barely restraining himself. The change was startling.  
  
"The Dark Lord can give you nothing but ruin. You should know that." He paused, the corner of his mouth turning up in a vicious little smile. "Look what happened to your father."  
  
He didn't really know what happened next. It's all a blur, even now. What he did know was that Potter ended up with a black eye, and he couldn't use his left hand for days.  
  
It had been quite a potent curse. The hand is a delicate part of the body, extremely sensitive to pain. His lip was bleeding for days from biting on it to stop himself from screaming. Draco didn't know that Potter was capable of such cruelty.  
  
That had been their last day at Hogwarts, before everything fell apart.  
  
* * *  
  
The Fourth Day, 2008 The Leaky Cauldron  
  
With a start, Draco woke. His first instinct was to grab for his wand; his second was to look for the source of the sound. He relaxed back against the couch he had been dozing on as he realised that it was a Ministry owl.  
  
Draco had not had this dream for a long time.  
  
He ripped open the brown envelope stamped 'Urgent' almost before the owl left. He was prepared for bad news, but the words still had the power to shock him.  
  
Malfoy:  
  
Second Death Eater murder. Report back with Remus immediately.  
  
N. Longbottom  
  
P.S. If I catch you drinking and sleeping on the job again we might have to see about that vacation of yours.  
  
He did two things immediately after reading the note: first he fixed himself a stiff drink, and then he threw the note into the fireplace.  
  
Draco watched it burn calmly. Another murder. Longbottom was a smug, annoying motherfucker. They were nowhere close to catching Potter or the murderer. His leg was hurting again.  
  
Look what happened to your father.  
  
"Fuck you, Potter. Get the hell out of my head."  
  
Outside, the rain poured down.  
  
* * *  
  
Remus had been waiting for him outside. Draco nearly tripped over him as he opened the door. After they straightened themselves out, they stood staring at each other in the corridor.  
  
Remus' eyes were bloodshot, just like his own, and he looked just as ready to rip someone a new one. There they stood, seriously contemplating the ridiculousness inherent in the situation.  
  
Remus started laughing first. The sound was not forced, but it bordered a little on the edge of hysteria, all the same. Draco spared a moment to wonder about his sanity.  
  
Contemplating, my ass. Draco laughed too.  
  
Why not? The world was absurd. He was sure that wherever Potter was, he was laughing too.  
  
He was right, of course. He often was about these things.  
  
* * *  
  
10 minutes later Neville's Office, Ministry of Magic  
  
Longbottom waved at them as they entered his disgustingly cheerful office, painted and draped in splendid red and gold. Draco did not wave back. Remus nodded at Longbottom, but his smile was strained. The lines around his eyes appeared more pronounced than ever.  
  
Draco looked outside at the pouring rain to avoid the Gryffindor colours.  
  
For a while, Neville shuffled papers around while Remus looked at Draco and Draco looked out the window. Longbottom jumped when Lupin spoke, breaking the silence.  
  
"Excuse me, Neville, but just what is going on?" He didn't sound angry, just concerned. Draco raised an eyebrow and turned back to the conversation. This was getting interesting.  
  
Longbottom looked up from shuffling his papers and sat back in his chair with a great sigh.  
  
"What? Oh, nothing's wrong, it's just business as usual, you know, case pressure and all that..."  
  
Remus snorted. "Don't feed me that crap, Neville. Something's up and if it has anything to do with this investigation, I'd like to know."  
  
Neville sighed. He started shuffling the papers again, then stopped abruptly and seemed to come to a decision. He looked straight at Remus.  
  
"You know I wouldn't keep anything from you that would help you in your case, Remus. It's just Fudge, being his usual self. Bode and I are under a lot of pressure to recapture Ha - Potter."  
  
"You don't want Harry back behind bars anymore than I do, Neville. We can be honest about that."  
  
Longbottom's smile was bitter.  
  
"I don't know - how much do you want Harry to be back in Azkaban?"  
  
The silence this time was weighted with unspoken words.  
  
"You know Harry, Neville. You know him just as well as anyone does."  
  
"Did we know him at all, I wonder." He looked troubled. "I can't help it, Remus. You know what he did."  
  
Remus gripped his armrest very tightly. "'Don't listen to Fudge. Don't ever listen to him.' Do you remember that?"  
  
Neville nodded, his tone suddenly brisk as his face. "Let's get on with it then. I'm not sending you to the scene of the crime - I'm not allowed to, you're supposed to be hunting Harry. Victims were Mr and Mrs Carlston and their son. We're lucky someone was visiting them - the bodies were fresh when we got to them."  
  
Longbottom handed his folder over to him.  
  
Draco did not open the folder. He simply passed it on to Lupin and went back to staring at Neville.  
  
"Profile match?"  
  
"Yes. Former Death Eaters who've escaped conviction. Their daughter was in the Malfoy Manor defence group. Still the Hunter's Mark."  
  
He's killed again.  
  
Draco decided to dispel his unpleasant thoughts by being nasty.  
  
"Weren't you a Hunter, Longbottom?"  
  
Neville laughed, sharp and quick.  
  
"None of your business, Malfoy."  
  
Lupin looked up from reading the file. "Have you got photos of the crime scene?"  
  
Longbottom nodded, opening a drawer with one of his many keys.  
  
"Took me quite a bit of effort to get these, I can tell you, seeing as you're not supposed to have them. Ended up buying off the Eagle's photographer. Good shots, almost as good as Creevey."  
  
The photos were indeed very good. Well taken and well developed. Draco frowned at the static picture. Corpses never move in photos.  
  
He sifted through them, picked out three shots and handed the rest to Lupin.  
  
The first one was of the exterior of the house. It was a good sized one, almost a mansion, one might say, and would have looked splendid in its better days. Draco peered at the sky and the lawn. It had rained.  
  
"Lupin, when did it start raining?"  
  
"About five or six hours ago, why?"  
  
"Longbottom, what's the estimated time of the crime?"  
  
"It's on the report, have a look yourself," snapped Longbottom, busy composing a memo to the Prophet.  
  
Lupin shook his head lightly and passed the report back to Draco.  
  
Estimated occurrence time: 2-3 PM  
  
Match.  
  
He set aside the first photo. The second and third were snapshots of the family left as they were found, shot from different angles.  
  
The Carltons lay in the study, bloodied and almost unrecognisable. Draco stared hard at the carnage.  
  
Come on, this is a gift, there's something here, use it. Don't you dare look away.  
  
At last he allowed himself to shift his eyes onto the report, uncomfortably aware of Lupin's single eye following his hand across the pages.  
  
Cause of death: careful gunshots to the chest. (Note: for more on Muggle weaponry, consult Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.)  
  
The bodies were moved and mutilated later.  
  
It didn't fit. Calculated and yet out of control.maybe there's more than one person behind this.  
  
Remus spoke. "The Crime Scene team did a good job with this one."  
  
Draco nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, they're good for something for once." There was something wrong with this picture.  
  
Suddenly, a large leather-bound book, lying open on the floor caught his eye. He slammed the photo down on the table.  
  
"Tell me what that is." Longbottom's eyes narrowed as they focused on the book. "Don't lie to me, Longbottom. I'm warning you."  
  
Longbottom let out a great sigh. His shoulders were slumped and he looked tired.  
  
"You know what it is." He sat up and stared straight at Draco. Backing down had long become a thing of the past for him.  
  
Of course Draco knew what it was. He had seen it a thousand times. He'd never forget it.  
  
Remus raised an amused eyebrow. "Well?"  
  
"It's the Malfoy Manor library's visitor's book," Longbottom replied wearily. "Automatically records the entrance of any being. I have no idea how it got there, though."  
  
"That's fairly simple. There are two possibilities. Either the Carlstons somehow got hold of it or the killer bought it with him."  
  
Draco stood up and began to pace. "Lupin is right. Where is it now?"  
  
"I'll pull the inventory of the house we did and find out." With that Longbottom took out a piece of parchment and began scribbling.  
  
"Wait a minute. The killer wouldn't have bought it with him if it automatically records anyone's entrance. Wouldn't it write his name down?" Said Lupin, frowning faintly.  
  
Draco shook his head. "I don't know if it works outside of the Manor. Besides, the killer certainly didn't enter as a guest there to borrow a couple of books."  
  
Thoughts played a furious game of catch-22 in his head.  
  
Intent of entrance.visitor's book.the Manor.library, study.visitor's book.dining room.visitor's book.  
  
Two things occurred to him at once. He filed the first away for later discussion with Lupin and went onto the second, which was more relevant to the moment.  
  
Baddock was in the Manor siege.  
  
Longbottom was frowning at the inventory he'd just been sent. Draco took two long steps towards his desk and tapped him on the head.  
  
"Don't worry about that inventory, Longbottom. It's not going to be there."  
  
"How did you know that?" Neville asked, slightly peeved.  
  
"Never you mind, I need to see photos of the first crime scene and I need them now."  
  
Longbottom, long used to Draco's work habits, was unfazed by his sudden request and proceeded to open another drawer. Remus simply raised an eyebrow.  
  
Draco leafed through the Baddock photos, picking out two and handing the rest back to Neville. He placed the photos on the table, the Baddocks next to the Carlstons. Remus, standing next to him, could not see what he could. He wasn't comparing the photos with each other. He was comparing them with snapshots of his own memory.  
  
Come on, I need to remember.  
  
For once, his stubborn mind cooperated and he saw what he needed flash before his eyes.  
  
The Malfoy Manor dining room, after the siege.  
  
The Baddocks, bloodied, lying around their dining room.  
  
Match.  
  
Malfoy Manor library, the dust and ink disturbed by death and carnage.  
  
The Carlstons, broken like dolls, arranged carefully around their study.  
  
The visitor's book.  
  
Match.  
  
Draco took a deep breath and grabbed for the desk to keep himself upright.  
  
"I know what he's doing, Lupin." The Manor siege. Fuck. He closed his eyes to calm himself. "He's picking out Death Eaters involved in the Malfoy Manor siege. He's arranging his victims according to what happened at the Manor. He's."  
  
He trailed off, something else occurring to him for the first time.  
  
'It may rain again tomorrow.'  
  
"He's killing them on rainy days because."  
  
'The Manor holds memories.'  
  
"Because the Manor siege occurred on a rainy day."  
  
He opened his eyes as he finished, triumph flowing through him to meet the shocked yet thoughtful gaze of Lupin. He knew they were both more or less thinking the same thing.  
  
What the fuck, Potter? Are you or aren't you?  
  
* * *  
  
An Hour Later The Hanged Sphinx  
  
Draco took a grateful gulp of his drink. They had made a breakthrough, but the experience had drained him. For once, Remus did not attempt to stop him from getting himself drunk.  
  
In fact, Remus had been strangely quiet ever since their arrival in Longbottom's office. Draco frowned and put down his glass.  
  
"What is it, Lupin?"  
  
Lupin laughed, his remaining eye sparkling with a strange mirth. "I was about to ask you the same thing."  
  
Draco feigned innocence. He knew that he was rather crap at it, but he was in the mood to try.  
  
"I have no idea what you mean, Lupin. Absolutely no idea."  
  
Remus' poker face was almost perfect - almost, except that one could see a tiny smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Alright then. I have something to tell you, Draco."  
  
He could do surprise well enough.  
  
"Oh, what's that?"  
  
"You're not as good a liar as you think you are." He could see Remus reigning in laughter at the indignant look on his face. "Tell me what you didn't want to tell Neville."  
  
Draco faked a comical look of horror.  
  
"You think he noticed?"  
  
Their eyes met and they both laughed.  
  
"Cheers." The crisp clink of their glasses of fire whiskey as they met midair was almost musical.  
  
It was nice to laugh after what they'd just seen.  
  
"So, what is it?"  
  
There was that flash of triumph again, sweet as rum and just as potent.  
  
"I know how Potter got out."  
  
In an instant, he had Lupin's full attention.  
  
"How much have you found out?"  
  
He sat back, a smug grin creeping across his face.  
  
"I know when, how, and even who. The only missing piece is why. I can't for the life of me figure that out."  
  
As if I've ever been able to figure him out.  
  
Remus leaned back in his chair.  
  
"Go on."  
  
"The visitor's book reminded me. Azkaban keeps separate records for normal visits and other types of visitors - say the press."  
  
Comprehension dawned on Remus' face. He nodded, smiling.  
  
"So you went and pulled the records while I was with Bode."  
  
"Right. Turns out that a reporter for the Prophet interviewed him - or rather, tried to - about three weeks ago. I think it's far more likely that he interviewed her. He can plant suggestions, I've seen him do it before - no don't you argue with me here, I know what I'm talking about - so he gets her as his puppet and uses her to get someone else in there - someone who can help him out."  
  
"And this someone that Harry went to for help.You know who this person is." Remus prompted.  
  
Draco continued, tapping the table for emphasis. "Think about it. This person needs to be able to visit Azkaban without leaving records behind. He or she also needs to have the skill and knowledge necessary to break Potter out. That narrows it down quite a bit."  
  
Remus smiled. "There's only one type of people who can visit Azkaban without a permit or a record."  
  
They both spoke at the same time, the satisfaction of having solved a problem evident in both their voices.  
  
"Healers."  
  
In the ensuring silence, Draco polished off his drink while Remus frowned in thought.  
  
"It's really bad for security, if you ask me, but some of the old money family members fought for it and so Fudge isn't willing to touch it."  
  
Lupin nodded absentmindedly, his attention obviously elsewhere.  
  
"I'm not so sure.Dean's the only Healer Harry knows well, and he was in Australia, last time I checked. There isn't really anyone else, unless."  
  
He looked up, eyes widening in surprise.  
  
"Couldn't have been."  
  
Draco laughed. "That's what I thought, but it makes sense. He got a Healer license during the war, remember? Has to be him."  
  
"So what are you going to do?" Remus was obviously amused at his expense and Draco couldn't blame him.  
  
He sighed, resigned and long suffering.  
  
"I guess I'll have to pay him a visit then."  
  
* * *  
  
30 Minutes Later  
  
"Evening, Professor."  
  
"You're not very welcome, you realise."  
  
"Yes, Sir, but I."  
  
"Especially at this hour. Mr Malfoy, do you know what time it is?"  
  
"Yes, Sir. I'd like your help with."  
  
"I'd like you to come back tomorrow, or not at all, if possible."  
  
"Professor."  
  
"That title no longer applies to you, I believe."  
  
"Mr Snape, I have the right to question you as a top level Auror. Would you please let me finish a sentence?"  
  
".Do go on, Mr Malfoy."  
  
"Thank you. Now, can I come in?"  
  
Laughter, rich and genuine.  
  
"You may indeed, Mr Malfoy."  
  
Scraping of chairs.  
  
"Sit down. So tell me, what was so important that you had to bother me at this ungodly hour?"  
  
"Not even going to offer me tea? Your hospitality for me has lessened considerably since my father got sent to Azkaban, Professor."  
  
"Very astute, Mr Malfoy. Maybe you have learned."  
  
"Ha, I wish. If I've learned then I wouldn't be here, being the Ministry's fucking henchman."  
  
Sighs.  
  
"I haven't got long, Draco. What do you want?"  
  
"Alright, let's get straight to the point. You helped Potter escape. I want to know why."  
  
Crash of glass breaking.  
  
"Careful there, that tea must have been hot. Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm just fine, thank you. Potter may have underestimated you. Have you shared you discovery with anyone?"  
  
"No one in the Ministry. You're safe for now. Tell me why."  
  
"You never used to be so curious, Mr Malfoy. Just so very intent on Potter."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"'Some puzzles aren't meant to be solved.' That's what I am supposed to tell you. However, unlike Chang, I am no go-between. I had my reasons for letting Potter out. That should be good enough for you."  
  
"Even if he is responsible for the murders?"  
  
"What do you think, Mr Malfoy?"  
  
"I can't get anymore out of you without a warrant."  
  
"No."  
  
"Damn you.You know I can't get a warrant."  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
"Never you mind. Let me tell you something. You despise this government that you risked your life to keep. You hate Fudge almost as much as you hate Dumbledore. Am I right?"  
  
"Very good, Mr Malfoy. Keep going."  
  
"Here's what I can't figure out - why not let Potter rot in Azkaban? You hate him. Wouldn't it just be sweet irony to have someone you despise locked up by someone else you hate?"  
  
"You said it yourself - I'm not about to explain myself to you. It's late, Mr Malfoy. Goodbye."  
  
"I'm sure I'll hear your 'valid reasons' some time. Goodbye, Professor. You're a double-crossing son of a bitch and my father would be walking free if it weren't for you." A sigh. "Thank you."  
  
"You're quite welcome, Mr Malfoy."  
  
* * *  
  
An Hour Later Draco's House  
  
Draco staggered out of the fireplace, completely drained. He wanted nothing more then to sleep, but he had a report to write. Leaning against a wall, Draco sighed.  
  
Is it just me or are my days getting steadily worse?  
  
He pushed open the door to his study and stopped dead.  
  
Definitely getting worse.  
  
The study's walls were covered with newspaper clippings, each of them telling the story of Death Eaters killed during the war, each of them meticulously cut out by Draco. On each clipping, he had curved out the picture of the killer - the Head of the Hunters, the Boy Who Lived - to avoid the haunted gaze of those green eyes mocking him.  
  
He needn't have bothered.  
  
Studying the clippings with an air of disaffected curiosity was the real thing.  
  
"I told you to come home, didn't I? You just didn't bother to listen."  
  
He turned just as Draco came out of his shock and began reaching for his wand.  
  
Harry Potter held Voldemort's wand in his hand and it was pointed straight at Draco's heart.  
  
"Hello, Draco. How nice to see you again."  
  
Oh fuck.  
  
* * *  
  
To Be Continued  
  
Author's Notes: Apologies for the unholy long delay in getting this chapter out - I hope it was at least worthy the bloody long wait. ^_^  
  
Also I feel like I should apologize for the length of this chapter - it's really quite a bit shorter than my usual, and I feel bad for that, especially after such a long absence.  
  
Next chapter: Vengeance and Honour. 'Let the man who seeks revenge remember to dig two graves.' There is nothing worse than the truth.  
  
If you'd like to get updates early and get notified when a chapter goes up, then come join me at Intelligent Mongrels, the joint Yahoo Group of Sajasma Lee and I.  
  
Come join the insanity at groups.yahoo.com/group/intellimongrels/join/ 


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